The Only Exception
by CaptainoftheUSSTardis
Summary: A series of one-shots for thestanfoubrew and remuslupinsmiled's 30 Days of Beauty and the Beast challenge! Takes place pre-Belle (before Belle arrives at the castle, but after the prologue), post-curse, and during the movie (there could be some pre-curse fics eventually), and focuses mainly on Belle and Adam's relationship.
1. One: Morning

**Author's Note:** Hello readers! This fic is a series of one-shots following thestanfoubrew and remuslupinsmiled's 30 Days of Beauty and the Beast challenge prompts (the post can be found here: post/161271386570/beauty-and-the-beast-fanfictionfanart-celebration). These take place pre-Belle (before Belle arrives at the castle but after the curse), post-curse, and some are missing moments from the movie (there may be some pre-curse stuff later on).

I'll try to update this fic daily, but I apologize in advance if I can't.

Thank you for reading and enjoy!

* * *

Belle didn't remember falling asleep that night, only that she'd been completely surrounded in Adam's touch after their… _eventful_ wedding night.

She woke to the sounds of the birds chirping and the breeze blowing, and she stopped for a minute to take in everything. Adam – her husband – was sleeping peacefully beside her, his chest rising and falling evenly. She gently tucked a piece of his gold strands behind his ear, hoping she wouldn't wake him.

Belle didn't know if her eyes were deceiving her, or if she was still caught up in the happiness of the wedding, but she could have sworn she'd seen him smile as she moved his hair.

The wedding the day before had been a grand event – something that Belle had tried desperately to avoid. But once Adam had said to her that he, as the King's nephew and the Duke of Anjou would never have a private ceremony even if France were engulfed in flames, she relented. However, they'd managed to allow the reception at the castle instead of at Versailles, which was a blessing in of itself. It meant they would be spared the discomfort of travelling the great distance to Versailles or Paris, but of course having the King of France as a guest brought on its own difficulties.

As the sun peaked through the glass windows, Belle thought she could hear the sounds of laughter and the tapping of shoes on marble. She wouldn't be surprised if there were still nobles dancing in the ballroom. When she and Adam had snuck away late last night, the guests looked as if they could have danced into the next century.

The months leading up to the wedding had been some of the most stressful Belle had experienced. And the fact that the King himself and half of Versaille's nobles would be attending made all the matters worse.

But then one morning, as Belle was writing what seemed to be thousands of thank you letters for their wedding gifts, Adam had pulled her aside and down the grand staircase.

"Where on Earth are we going?" Belle had asked, her mind still racing with wedding details. Adam had just given her a sly smile. "You'll see. It's a surprise."

"Now is not the time for surprises–"

"Just trust me."

They left the castle into an awaiting carriage. For the whole ride – thought it had been a rather short ride – Adam had worn the same sly smile. He was planning something, she knew it, and she wanted to know desperately what it was.

It wasn't long before she recognized the route they were taking, towards Villeneuve. "Why are we heading towards the village?"

"You'll see, darling," Adam said, holding her hands and placing a small kiss on her temple. Despite her constant worry over the wedding plans, it felt as if there was nothing for her to stress over in that one, miniscule moment.

"Do that again," Belle whispered. Her fiancé obliged, placing another kiss on her temple.

As the carriage rolled closer and closer to the small village, a sense of uneasiness settled in Belle's stomach. Since the curse had been lifted eight months before she hadn't been to Villeneuve much, and in fact attempted to avoid it. All she could think about were the years she'd been an outsider, mocked, and not to mention almost sent to an asylum with her father.

The rest of the ride was silent until the carriage finally pulled to a stop. Belle looked out the window. They were in front of Père Robert's small church. She smiled at the building. Despite the all the bad memories she had at Villeneuve, the church, its priest, and its books had been a shining light.

She'd kept in touch with him of course – sending correspondence, but all the wedding plans had made time a scarce thing, and the frequency of her visits had suffered because of it.

The coachman opened the door and Adam stepped out into the bright sunlight, holding out his hand for her to take. Belle picked up her skirts and stepped out of the carriage, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the light.

In front of the church doors, Belle was very much surprised to see her father standing there with a small bouquet of flowers.

"Papa!" Belle exclaimed. "You said you'd be in your workshop all day."

Maurice smiled at his fib and couldn't help but gaze at Adam, who was sharing in something Belle had obviously not caught on to.

"What is all this about?" She was getting rather annoyed that she wasn't in on their little scheme.

"You said you wanted a small wedding…" Adam said, folding his hands behind his back and eying the church.

Belle's brows furrowed as she realized what was happening. Her jaw was pried open in shock. "But how did you… how did you make the King agree…" A thousand thoughts formed in her mouth and all tried to push out at once. "All the planning we've done…"

"Relax, my darling," Adam laughed and put his hands on her shoulders comfortingly. "Our long-awaited wedding at the cathedral next week is still occurring, but I planned this one with your father and Père Robert for just for the two of us. No court, no royal precession, no king. Just us." He took her hands in his, placing kisses on her knuckles. "Next week we'll be married in the eyes of the court, but tonight… we'll be officially married."

Belle's eyes became shiny with tears. She was afraid if she spoke her words would come out as a garbled mess.

Adam placed a kiss on her temple before entering the church, leaving her with her father. He handed her the flowers, and Belle took them in one hand while placing the other around his arm.

"How long have you two been planning this?" She asked between a soft cry of joy and a laugh. Maurice though pensively for a moment. "A month, perhaps?" He replied. "Do you remember the day I came down here to finish packing up the rest of the things from the cottage?"

"Of course, you wouldn't let me come with you."

"Yes, well, your fiancé and I were actually arranging this."

"So that was why I couldn't find Adam that day," Belle scoffed. "I assume the servants are in on it, considering they tried to make excuses for him that day."

Maurice laughed. "Yes, they are."

From inside the church, Belle could hear the sounds of the organ playing, and the doors opened. It was becoming increasingly difficult to contain her tears as Plumette, Cogsworth, Mr. And Mrs. Potts, and Chip stood from the front pews. Père Robert was standing at the altar, looking on proudly. Madame de Garderobe was standing beside her husband at the organ; no doubt she would be singing after the event, and Lumière stood beside her fiancé, who turned to watch to her walk towards him.

Belle's smile couldn't help but grow as she took in her surroundings. Here she was, getting _married_ a week early at a private ceremony, in a simple blue dress and _riding boots._ But that didn't matter. She couldn't care less about her wardrobe in this moment, or what flowers would decorate the ballroom, or what hors d'oeuvres would be served.

As Belle and Maurice reached the altar, Belle handed her flowers to Plumette and stood beside Adam. "I still can't believe you've done this," Belle whispered as Père Robert began his readings.

"Consider it an early wedding gift from me," he replied.

She smiled. "It's the best wedding gift I could hope for."

The ceremony had rushed by in blur of happiness, and now as Belle pushed off the covers of the bed, _their_ bed, with the exhilaration and madness of both weddings behind them, she wondered how she ever spent eight months waking up without him beside her.


	2. Two: Jealousy

**Author's Note:** Hello lovely readers! Thank you for supporting this fic! I just wanted to make a note that these one-shots jump around in time a lot. This one takes about about two months after the curse was broken, when Adam and Belle are newly engaged.

Enjoy!

* * *

"There are private libraries at Versailles, correct?" Belle asked as she gazed out the carriage door into the green forests beyond. The sun was just beginning to set, bathing the landscapes of the French country side in a gold shimmer. They had been in the carriage for most of the day, traveling from Paris to Versailles, and had spent another two weeks before that traveling from the castle to Paris.

When Adam had received the invitation from the King, Belle had asked whether they had to attend at all, as Adam himself wasn't too keen on the idea of being surrounded by court gossips and strict protocol only two months after the curse had been lifted.

It was Cogsworth who had convinced them to accept the invitation, as declining it would be viewed very unfavourably by the King, and not to mention Adam's monetary allowance relied on the King's good graces.

"Yes, of course, darling," Adam replied, giving his fiancée's hand a comforting squeeze. "But you knew that."

"Right. Of course. Just making sure."

From Belle's nervousness, Adam could tell this wasn't about wanting to see the libraries. "You'll be fine," he said, kissing her gently on the temple. "They'll all fall in love with you, just as I did."

"But they'll know. I know they will. From the first glance, they'll be able to tell I'm not one of them."

"Since when do you care what others think?" His eyebrow raised playfully.

"This is different. These are your people, your family. I don't want to embarrass you by eating with the wrong utensil or saying the wrong thing to the wrong person," Belle was becoming frantic, the realization they were attending the _dauphin's_ birthday party at the heart of France's royal circles came crashing down on her again.

After letting Cogsworth wear them down into accepting the invitation, she'd eagerly accepted the help of both Adam and Plumette to help her prepare for her royal debut, but now, just within an hour's reach of Versailles, all the protocol she'd been taught seemed to have gone out the window.

"You won't embarrass me," Adam said, kissing her again. "And besides, they're not _my_ people. They haven't been for a long time."

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, as Belle attempted to get some rest. Once they arrived, they would only have an hour or two to change before heading to the ballroom. The mere thought of dancing in front of one hundred other nobles made her stomach churn. She was comfortable dancing in front of others, of course, but this… this was different. No matter how much Adam insisted it wasn't. It felt as if her whole life depended on this one night.

Belle must have fallen asleep because Adam was nudging her awake as the Palace of Versailles came into view. She gasped at the vision of gold and marble. It was grander than anything she'd ever seen. As the carriage lurched through the massive gilded gates, Belle was better able to make out the exact splendour of the palace she and Adam would be living for the next two days.

Golden emblems depicting a face surrounded by the rays of the sun decorated every corner of the palace, a constant reminder of the king who built it. The buildings seemed to stretch out forever in both ways, and Belle could not even imagine the grandeur of its libraries or the gardens hidden behind its walls. Though no doubt Belle would prefer the comfort and coziness of her and Adam's library, she still longed to see what the world had to offer. In Paris, they'd visited the libraries of several universities, and not to mention the opera, and the _Notre Dame_ cathedral.

The coachman opened the door and Adam stepped out, and then other her his hand. Belle took it gladly, and the shadow of Versailles over her filled her with another wave of nervousness.

The size of the palace alone looked as if it could house an entire village, which she guessed was the point. Hundreds of nobles lived at Versailles, all under constant watch, and vying for a place next to the King.

Not for the first time was Belle glad she and Adam lived without all this protocol, this scrutiny. Their castle on the outskirts of Villeneuve was their own little world, far away from the prying eyes of noblemen and women.

"Belle…" Adam started, just as nervous as she was. "If any of the nobles say anything… unpleasant about me–"

"I know you were a different person back then, before…"

"Just… know that was a different life. Don't let it affect the way you see me."

"Of course, my love," Belle said, kissing his cheek.

Adam and Belle were announced two hours later after they'd had a chance to freshen up and change from the journey. Adam looked impeccable in a navy blue frock coat with silver and gold embroidery, matching waistcoat and breeches, and a large white cravat not so different than the one he'd worn at the celebration ball tied into a large bow. His blonde hair was hidden under a powdered wig, with two ringlets above his ears on either side and neatly brushed curls brought together with a navy blue bow.

Belle was dressed in a long silver gown with drapery at the back and navy embroidery in the shapes of vines and other floral patterns. She'd elected not to wear a powdered wig as so many of nobles did, but her hair was still piled high on her head in tight ringlets. Though most of the other women were wearing powdered wigs, Belle tried not to let it bother her. She'd been an outsider in the village for over seven years, after all. Still, trying to ignore the gazes of judgement from the nobles was very different that ignoring them from Villeneuve's citizens.

" _Son Altesse Royale, le duc d'Anjou et mademoiselle Belle de Villeneuve!"_ The footman shouted into the large ballroom, and Belle's hand around Adam's arm tensed as a few of the nobles turned towards them with curious looks.

The King hadn't made his entrance as of yet, so there was no use worrying about _that_ at the moment, Belle thought as she took a flute of champagne from a passing footman. She gazed at her fiancé for a moment, and was quick enough to grab a second flute.

"You look just as nervous as I feel," Belle said, handing him the drink.

"Thank you, darling," Adam replied. He raised his glass slightly towards her and leaned in. "May we get through this together."

"Cheers," Belle laughed as she took a sip of the champagne.

Belle and Adam managed to keep to themselves for a while, even after the King had made his grand entrance. But as they were standing on one of the many terraces overlooking the vast gardens, the King and his entourage eventually found them.

"Ah! My nephew, back from the dead it seems!" A grand voice rang out, making the couple turn with a jolt. When they realized who was addressing them, Adam bowed from the waist and Belle curtsied deeply, though it was hard under all the fabric of her skirts.

When they stood again, Belle and Adam shared a short, curious look. _Back from the dead, it seems._ There was no possible way the King of France could know about Adam's wounds, or the curse itself.

"I've been… travelling," Adam replied quickly. The King nodded, but didn't look like he cared one way or the other. He now shifted his gaze to Belle, whose heart seemed to stop for a moment. "And this is…" he inquired with a flirtatious look about him.

"Mademoiselle Belle de Villeneuve, Your Majesty," Adam said, and then added, "my fiancé."

The King smiled. "Ah, you have my congratulations."

Belle smiled brightly and curtsied again. "Thank you, your Majesty."

The King considered Adam for a moment longer, but then left the terrace without another word. Once the King and his entourage were out of site, Belle and Adam turned to each other.

"That wasn't so terrible, was it?" Adam smiled, taking her hand comfortingly in his. "No," Belle replied. "Now I just wish these courtiers would stop staring at us."

Adam's soft smile grew into something more playful and sly. "Why don't we give them something to stare at?" Belle's eyebrow raised as her fiancé led her to the centre of the dancefloor. The orchestra was just starting another waltz, and Adam and Belle easily moved with the music.

For a moment, Belle thought she must have been back home at the castle's ballroom, alone with Adam dancing to Maestro Cadenza's compositions. Then, she realized, it was Adam who made her feel that way. There was something about his touch, his grace, that transported her back to Villeneuve the way the enchanted book had transported them to Paris all those weeks ago.

Belle's gaze at Adam's shining blue eyes never faltered until the dance finished, and even then the couple remained stationary for a few moments longer, trying to reacquaint themselves with their busy and stuffy surroundings.

They were about to leave the sea of dancing nobles when a young man approached Belle and bowed. "Would you do the honour of sharing the next dance with me, mademoiselle?" he asked, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Belle couldn't help but be surprised, but agreed to the man's request. She looked at her fiancé, who had a slight look of uncertainty about him, but Belle replied with a comforting smile.

They dance with the man was nice enough, though the whole time Belle longed for the light touch of Adam's fingertips against her waist and hand, and the sparkle of his blue eyes as they met her chestnut ones. Belle thought she might be able to escape the crowded ballroom with Adam after the dance, but several other men asked for a dance after that, and Belle had been too polite and had drank a little too much champagne to refuse them.

She didn't know how long she'd been dancing when Adam returned to her, looking rather put out as he tapped her dancing partner on the shoulder. Her fiancé cleared his throat, cleary trying to intimidate the fellow.

"I think I've been away from my fiancée long enough," he said matter-of-factly, folding his hands behind his back.

"Aren't you a lucky one?" The man said and then offered a bow to Belle, who curtsied in return. "I hope Versailles sees a lot more of you in the future."

Belle forced a smile as the man walked off, immediately finding another dancing partner.

"Seven," Adam said simply, moving beside her to gaze at the room.

"Pardon?" Belle asked.

"Seven partners, and only one was me."

"I can't help it if they like me," the corner of Belle's lips curled into a smile. "Though none came even close to you in comparison."

"I should hope not. But perhaps you've picked the wrong fiancé?"

Belle tapped him playfully on the arm. "Don't you say that." Adam turned to face her with a gleam in his eyes and a mischievous smile. "Prove it."

Belle's eyebrow raised, and she took his hand and swiftly led him out of the ballroom. They traveled a great distance from the hordes of nobles until they nestled themselves on one of the stone benches in the gardens.

Without the slightest hesitation, Belle planted her lips firmly on Adam's, and her hands wandered up his face, holding onto his cheeks like she would stop him from falling out beneath her. Adam's hands tightened around her waist and the small of her back as they kissed, trying to pull her so close that not even the air could separate them.

Belle didn't know how long they'd been kissing when the navy sky was lit aflame with fireworks, but the neither the bright lights nor the loud crackle startled her. For the first time since she arrived at Versailles, she felt at home.


	3. Three: Midnight

**Author's note:** Hello lovely readers! This chapter takes place soon after the night of the debutante ball, when Adam is cursed.

Enjoy!

* * *

"He's not going to come out, it's useless, I tell you."

Cogsworth was once again pacing – more like hobbling, in his clock form – back and forth outside the doors of the West Wing, while Mrs. Potts gazed on in worry as she had been doing for the past week. Ever since that dreadful night, the master had locked himself away in his chambers, never uttering a single word to them.

The first night had been the worst. Even from the ballroom, the newly-transformed servants would hear the loud crashes and bangs from upstairs after the master had turned into that… _creature_ and retreated in agony and haste.

Mrs. Potts knew he was going through certain torment, but it would do him no good to keep himself locked away with no one to talk to. She'd made that quite clear once she figured out how to get up the blasted stairs with no legs and only one handle. Chappeau, the master's valet who'd been turned into a coat rack had been very useful on that score.

"Useless," the majordomo-turned-mantel clock muttered, crossing his metallic arms over his body made of gears.

"He'll starve himself if he doesn't come out," the teapot argued, raising her voice in hopes that the master was listening.

Cogsworth scoffed. "Why should he, then, after what he'd done to us." There was a harshness and bitterness in his tone, something Mrs. Potts didn't expect from him.

"Really, Cogsworth," she chastised, "he's still the boy we've known all his life, trapped in that horrid form—"

"Not to mention he'll have to come out of there if he wants even the slightest chance to break the spell," Lumière, now only about twenty inches tall with candlesticks for arms said as he reached the top of the stairs, breathless from the climb.

"Yes, Lumière, ever so helpful as always," Mrs. Potts muttered.

The candelabra shrugged as best he could – despite being made of gold. "I don't know about you, but I would not like to be a candelabra for another minute, much less the time it will take for the master to come out of his rooms."

"You don't think I don't want to be stuck as a teapot forever? Or Cogsworth a mantel clock, or my son a tea cup? He's only ten, the poor boy." If Mrs. Potts could cry in her new form, tears would be streaming down her cheeks.

Lumière's shoulders dropped as he let out a disappointed sigh.

"How is Plumette handling it all?" she asked.

"As well as anybody," Lumière replied, hopping up onto one of the small tables lining the walls and taking a seat. "She can fly, which is more than I can say about any of us."

The three servants stood outside the doors in silence for a long while. All that could be heard where the soft patter of raindrops from outside and the tap of Cogsworth's metal legs against the stone floor.

As the hands on the majordomo's clock face read midnight, Mrs. Potts sighed. "You all should get some sleep, I can stay here in case he comes out."

Lumière nodded and bounced down the stairs, but Cogsworth lingered a little. "What I said earlier, about the master… I didn't mean it. Not really."

"I know you didn't."

Cogsworth smiled and hobbled down the stairs, leaving Mrs. Potts alone on the trolley.

"I guess there's nothing else that I haven't already said that would make you come out," she said at the door, hoping, praying, he was listening. "I know it may not seem like it, but we do love you, no matter how you feel or act. And we must get through this together. That wicked woman put this curse on all of us, and it'll take us all to break it."

Still no sound came from the other side of the doors. Not even the shuffle of feet or the slightest sound of movement. Sighing, Mrs. Potts remembered a lullaby from when the master was a boy, a lullaby his mother used to sing to him. She didn't know if it would do more harm than good, but she started to sing despite that.

" _Days in the sun, when your life has barely begun… Not until my whole life is done, will I ever leave you…"_

Mrs. Potts didn't know how long she'd been singing when she heard a rustle from inside the doors.

"Master?" The teapot raised her voice slightly. "Master is that you?"

"I want to be left alone," a deep, muffled voice came from the other side of the doors. It was the first time, she realized, he'd spoken since that night. His voice was deeper, certainly, but not unrecognizable. She could still hear her boy in there, despite everything. And she knew he was in there.

"If you think I'm leaving you know, you've got another thing coming," Mrs. Potts replied, raising her voice.

"Then stop singing that… it reminds me too much of her."

"Someone's got to bring light and hope to this situation. If anybody could have, it would've been her."

"If she were alive we wouldn't be in this disaster."

Mrs. Potts considered his words and paused for a long moment. She supposed it were true, that if the late Duchess of Anjou were alive he wouldn't have been corrupted by that father of his. What kind of man would he have been, with his mother's guidance? He could still be that person, she knew it, but not by shutting himself away from them.

"You must come out, Master. You'll starve yourself."

"I can't. I'm too hideous," the grumbled response came.

"We've all changed, dear," Mrs. Potts replied. "The maids have been turned into feather dusters, for heaven's sake. I'm a teapot."

"But I'm _not_ a feather duster or a teapot… I'm…" there a long pause, making Mrs. Potts think he'd given up trying to respond. "I'm a monster."

"We won't have any more talk like that," the teapot replied firmly. "You are _not_ a monster."

Silence.

Mrs. Potts sighed. "The way I see it, you can either come out of there have some tea, or I can stay out here singing until the last petal falls."

Again, silence.

"Alright, you leave me no choice." Mrs. Potts started to sing the lullaby again, but hadn't even made it through the first verse before the doors opened with a soft click.


	4. Four: Bath

**Author's note:** Hello everyone! This chapter takes place during the movie, when Adam and Belle are getting ready for the ball. I also decided that Belle knows Adam's real name at this point.

Thanks for reading and enjoy!

* * *

Adam grimaced as Chappeau doused him with another bucket of water. _Why am I doing this, how could I be so foolish?_ Thoughts of regret were racing through his mind has his fur was being washed by the valet-turned-coat rack. But then he remembered the smile on Belle's face when he'd suggested they have a ball that evening, and something about the brightness she brought to the room gave him the confidence he needed to make the rather rash decision to follow through.

He tried to think of her as he endured the washing in the cramped space. He was sat in the claw-foot tub he'd used to spend hours in before the curse, only this time his knees her pressed up against his chest as his now larger body attempted to fit in the small space (and not very well, at that).

The servants were anxiously waiting on the other side of a thin curtain, certainly hoping that this was the night everything would change. Adam had his doubts – _how could a girl like Belle ever accept a creature like him_ – but they tried their very best to convince him otherwise, for all the good it would do them.

It had been hours ago, but Adam felt like it had been only seconds since he'd asked her. He'd been walking from the library towards the gardens for some fresh air when he'd noticed Belle in the ballroom. In fact, he'd noticed her up on the gallery before noticing the massive room had been cleaned to the point that it sparkled with the sun's rays hitting the crystal chandeliers.

Adam had smiled to himself as he entered the ballroom, eying the girl gazing out the frosted glass window.

"Enjoying the view?" He'd called up to her.

Belle gasped and turned with a jolt. "You startled me," she said, laughing.

"I promise, that was not my intention," Adam replied. Belle smiled, and silence fell between them. He gazed around the room, searching his mind for something to fill the silence.

"The room hasn't looked this nice in years," he said finally, admiring his surroundings. Only a month or two ago, the ballroom being in a state such as this would have reminded him of that dreaded night, but now, with Belle smiling up on the gallery, it seemed as if he were standing in a different room entirely.

He realized he ached to feel the sensation of his feet moving in a waltz, to dance around the room and feel as if he were floating. That was when the idea popped into his head, and he voiced it without thinking.

"Everything's so beautiful…" he started, "it would be a shame to put all of the maids' work to no use."

"Are you…"

"We should have a ball tonight," Adam blurted before he could stop himself. His gaze shifted away from Belle and onto the marble floor.

The was a long pause, and every second he waited for her response was agony.

"A ball for the two of us?" Belle asked, considering the words. _He knew it, he knew she wouldn't go for it._ "Nevermind," Adam said quickly, still avoiding eye contact with her. "It was a stupid idea–"

"It would be my pleasure."

Adam's gaze shifted with a jolt as he finally looked up at Belle. He blinked. He hadn't expected this, he didn't know what to say. Perhaps he'd misheard her. "You–"

"I would love to dance with you," she said. He'd definitely not misheard her a second time. A thousand different thoughts raced through his mind and heart and all seemed to become an incoherent mess. He opened his mouth to speak, but all the words coming to his mind didn't seem right. How could the girl above him in the gallery, a girl so intelligent and free spirited and beautiful, accept an offer to dance with a creature like him? He half-expected her to change her mind right there and then, but her gaze never faltered.

Finally, he was able to form a sentence without tripping over his words. "Right," he said, still not trusting the words that were coming out of his mouth. "I shall inform Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth. Until tonight, then."

"Until tonight," Belle replied, smiling even brighter. Adam was caught up her in expression that he hadn't realized his gaze had lingered, and upon realizing so he quickly left the room, asking himself what exactly had he done.

The full weight of his decision hadn't fully begun to sink in until now in the bath, though now it was a little too late to go back on it. Still, his heart fluttered at the thought of dancing again, especially with a partner such as Belle. But that thought was matched with nervousness.

What was Belle thinking, far off on the other side of the castle? Was she regretting her decision? Was she nervous, scared, excited?

As the warm water soaked his fur (even after years of being cursed, Adam could still never get used to notion of being covered in fur), he tried desperately to shake off any anxious thoughts. He knew now that this was happening whether he liked it or not.

The servants seemed to think the ball would lead to the breaking of the curse, and as such, some had already begun to discuss the first thing they'd do once they returned to their human form, but Adam still has his doubts. He hadn't danced in so long… a million things could go wrong.

He hoped that Belle wasn't as doubtful as him.

* * *

On the other side of the castle, Belle stood with butterflies in her stomach as she gazed at herself in the full-length mirror.

She'd once told Madame de Garderobe she wasn't a princess, but in the gold gown, anyone who didn't already know her would think otherwise.

Once the news had gotten around the castle that she'd accepted Adam's proposal to hold a ball that evening, Madame de Garderobe had been quick to design a gown for her, and not to mention shoes and jewelry as well.

She'd been confident in her decision when she'd accepted his offer, though she could tell Adam had been surprised at her answer. And now, standing in front of the mirror in a long gold gown just moments before sharing a dance with someone she considered a true friend, she was still confident even though nervousness welled in her stomach.

Belle had never danced with anyone but her father before, and the idea of dancing with someone other than him that she truly cared about was both daunting and exciting.

As Madame de Garderobe had dressed Belle as best she could in her wardrobe form, she'd gone on and on about the grand celebrations and parties Adam had hosted before the curse.

"He could dance until dawn," the wardrobe had said, recounting the memories with a warm fondness. "I can remember it like it were yesterday. The ballroom was a sea of silk and jewels, and the master was in its centre."

The wardrobe paused, and though her features were made of painted wood and fabric, Belle could see a sadness about her, a longing for times long past.

"But that all stopped after the curse… the master could hardly bring himself to step into the ballroom."

Another pause.

Madame de Garderobe picked herself up and seemed to shake off the memories. "But of course, you changed all that," she said in a much more chipper tune.

Belle let out a short laugh of disbelief. "I don't think I'm fully to blame…" she trailed off. It was true the that he had changed a great deal after the night of the wolf attack, she could see the man behind the monstrous form, then man trapped inside. But she didn't think it was all because of her. She believed that, as she grew closer to him, there had always the sweet, funny, and generous man in there.

"Never mind that now," Madame de Garderobe said. If she were able to, Belle was sure she would be pushing her out the door. "You have a ball to attend," she added.

Belle was at the door's arch when she turned around to gaze at Madame de Garderobe once more. The butterflies were making themselves heard again.

"You'll have a marvelous time," the wardrobe said with a reassuring smile.

"Thank you, Madame," Belle said earnestly, bowing her head slightly. "For everything."

"A pleasure, my dear."

Belle smiled and turned on her heels, heading to the night that awaited her in the ballroom below.


	5. Five: Leather

**Author's note:** Hello lovely readers! This chapter takes place about a month after the curse has been broken. As always, thank you for the support!

Enjoy!

* * *

For the second time that week, Belle was going through the countless shelves in the library, seeing what new books she had yet to discover amongst them.

Even though she had been living in the castle for a little over a month after the curse had been broken, she felt as if she still hadn't discovered the library's full potential. There were still plenty of other tomes and works to devour, and Belle had made it her mission to seek out all of them (even if it meant learning Greek to read them.

Belle's foot sat sturdily on the wooden step ladder on the library's second floor, while her other foot was dangling of it lazily. She was on a section that contained mainly plays, everything from Greek tragedies to the works of Shakespeare to the modern works of Molière.

Of course, Belle was familiar with the section. She'd sought out _Romeo and Juliet_ not long after Adam had shown her the library – much to his disappointment. But now Belle realized she'd never actually properly observed each of the books sitting on the shelves, and found herself jotting down crude notes on a piece of parchment with a quill, listing all the books she wanted to read first.

She hoped she'd be able to read many of them to Adam, as that had become a sort of habit. She would read aloud during long walks in the gardens, or on stormy nights by the fire, and Adam would be right beside her, perhaps paying more attention to _her_ than the book. Sometimes it would be the other way around, where Adam would read to her and Belle would be the one caught up in the glimmer of his eyes, or the way he chuckled when they made eye contact.

Belle wondered how Adam was getting on now. Not long after the curse had been broken, he had to return to his duties, which happened to include stacks of paper work concerning the maintenance of the lands and taxation.

All day since breakfast he'd been in his study, and Belle wished he could take a break to walk around the gardens underneath the bright sun with her.

As Belle reached the far end of the long shelf, and had written down all the books she wished to read, something caught her eye. It was a box of some sort, behind a few books leaning on their sides. Furrowing her brows, Belle moved the books aside to take out the box, which was quite heavy, and quite dusty. She was now able to see the intricate carvings all around the box, and that some had faded gold paint in the crevices.

The box was old, to be sure, and Belle wondered what it could be hiding. Slowly, she descended the ladder and once she was on the solid ground of the gallery, she began to open it.

"What have you found, darling?" A voice called from below, making her jump.

"Heavens, you almost made me drop it!" Belle said and smiled down at Adam, who was at the library's entrance with a curious look on his face.

Overjoyed to see him, Belle quickly descended the staircase to the main floor of the library to show Adam what she'd found. But his reaction to the box as she set it down on a table covered in maps did not match hers.

Instead, he shifted his gaze away. "That was my mother's," he said quietly. "She'd told me she brought it with her from Spain."

"Your mother was a Spaniard?" Belle asked curiously.

Adam couldn't help but chuckle at Belle's curiosity. Ever since that night at Montmartre, Adam had opened up about his own mother, and his childhood with her. At first, it had been hard for him to talk about. If they were in the West Wing, he would constantly gaze at his mother's portrait when he spoke about her, as if seeking guidance from her.

But now, it was a more comfortable subject to speak about.

He smiled fondly. "Yes. She was a Spanish _infanta,_ a daughter of the King. The engravings on the box display her family's coat of arms."

"Oh, how marvelous," Belle said, observing the markings more closely this time. "May I open it?"

"By all means," Adam replied.

With a light touch, Belle opened the box and smiled at its contents. Inside, there was a collection of leather-bound books, worn and faded from time. She took out the one on top and flipped through its pages, only to discover that it was not a book, but a _journal._ On the pages, faded handwriting covered each one, displaying countless entries, and the memories they held.

"Did you know your mother kept journals?" Belle asked, reading one of the first entries, dated April 1725.

"I didn't," Adam confessed, picking out another one of the leather-bound journals from the box. "I always knew the box was hers, but I never dared to open it."

"These are lovely, Adam. You'll be able to learn more about her."

"I never thought I'd get such an opportunity."

"Shall we read some of them tonight?" Belle asked, taking out more of the journals. There were five in total, all covered in the small brown leather jackets and filled with entries and ink smudges. She handled them with care, as she felt as if she were holding history itself in her hands.

"That sounds lovely, my darling," Adam replied, his eyes still fixed on the pages. She placed a kiss on his temple.

For a while, Belle stood there, gazing at Adam as he eyes remained transfixed on his mother's journals. She'd never seen such an expression of wonderment about him, except perhaps the first time he'd set eyes on her once he'd transformed back into his human form.

"Do you think the others might want to hear these stories?" Belle asked.

"I'm sure they would, but we can tell them tomorrow." Adam looked at her with a warm smile. "Tonight, I just want to read them with you."


	6. Six: First

**Author's note:** Hello again! This chapter takes place a year after Belle gives birth to twins: a boy, and a girl. Thank you for reading.

Enjoy!

* * *

Adam would have loved to say he'd been able to spend the day in the company of his wife and children, but his duties seemed to disagreed with him.

That year, they had a terribly long winter, causing the land's crops to sprout later than usual. And of course, he was the one who had to deal with the difficulties. And not to mention he had to sign countless thank you letters about the well wishes for his children's first birthday just a week ago.

He'd been trapped in his study all day, praying time would pass quicker so he could spend some time with his family. He ached for the feeling of carrying his daughter up and down the castle, or making his son giggle.

Unlike the vast majority of aristocratic couples, Belle and Adam had held out on hiring a governess until they could barely stay awake at the dinner table. It had been on Cogsworth's insistence, and they had denied it for a good while until it was clear they needed the extra help. But even so, they spent as much time with their children as possible, perhaps a little obsessively on Adam's part. But it was only because he was so nervous about turning into his own father, though Belle insisted such a thing wouldn't even be possible.

As Adam gazed out the large window at the vast gardens in full bloom, he wondered what his wife and children were up to. It was the early afternoon, so perhaps Belle was putting the children down for a nap and reading to them as they fell asleep.

It had become a ritual for the new parents to read to the twins before bed. Adam and Belle would take turns each night, and even had an ongoing friendly rivalry between them concerning who told the best story. Adam liked to joke it was him, but both he and Belle knew Adam could listen to his wife's voice for hours and not tire of it, and the way she read could rival any ancient story teller.

Adam knew he should stick to thoughts of the paperwork in front of him, but his mind drifted off into memories of the children, and he didn't try that hard to stay focused.

One night, soon after the twins' birth, Belle had watched him as he sang to his daughter on the balcony of their room, gazing out at the stars. Marie Céleste, named after both Adam's and Belle's mothers, had woken up in the middle of the night in a fuss, and Adam hadn't wanted to wake his wife so he picked the little girl up and rocked her back and forth under the light of the moon.

He'd lost track of time, singing to his daughter, but he knew that Belle was standing by the entrance of the balcony, watching them. She didn't know he knew she was there, at least, not until Céleste had fallen asleep again when Adam returned her to her crib and kissed his tired wife.

A soft knock at the door jolted Adam from his thoughts. He hoped to see Belle, but it was Mrs. Potts with her tea trolley. "Your tea, sir," she said and placed the tea cup on his study with the tea pot.

"Thank you," Adam replied, trying to focus on his work so he could return to his family. "Oh, Mrs. Potts!" He added, catching the housekeeper before she left the room.

"Yes?" She asked, turning towards him.

"Do you mind fetching me that encyclopedia on French peerage? I'm afraid I left in the library."

"Of course, sir," the housekeeper replied and left the room, leaving him alone again.

Not even five minutes had passed when there was another knock at the door. "That was quick, Mrs. Potts," Adam said without looking up from the parchment in front of him.

"I'm afraid I'm not Mrs. Potts," Belle laughed. A wide smile grew on Adam's face and he looked from his work to admire his wife, who was entering the room with a child on each arm.

He rushed from his study to take his son, Alexandre Louis, who was becoming rather fidgety. "My, you're a sight for sore eyes," Adam breathed. Belle laughed again.

"If I recall correctly, we did have breakfast together," she said.

"But that was hours ago."

"True enough."

"What did I do to deserve this special visit?" He asked, bouncing his son in his arms. Belle smiled and looked their daughter. "Céleste has something special to show you," she said, putting her on the floor and holding her so she could stand.

"Is that right?" Adam asked as he kneeled on the floor. He held Alexandre upright so he could sit beside him.

"Walk to Papa," Belle said to their daughter in a bright, yet soft voice. "Just like you did before."

Slowly, Belle eased her hands away from Céleste's sides, but hovered within a few inches to catch her. The young girl stood, but didn't move at first. With his son in one arm, Adam held his other out towards his daughter.

"Go on," Belle whispered, smiling. And then Adam gasped with joy. Céleste was taking her first steps towards him. She waddled over slowly, not unlike how Cogsworth would walk in his mantel clock form, and Adam caught her when she reached him.

At first, Adam was speechless and practically crying of joy. He laughed and kissed his daughter on the forehead.

"She's walking," he breathed, completely overcome with emotion. "Yes," Belle laughed, walking over and sitting on the floor beside him.

"She's as smart and lively as her mother," he said, gazing at his wife.

"And Alexandre is as stubborn as his father," Belle added.

"How long until he's up and running around, do you think?"

"It shouldn't be long now."

Adam smiled and kissed his wife, forgetting he was in his study surrounded by paperwork. At that moment, everything mattered more than the parchment, letters, and forms. "I do love you. So much."

"And I you," Belle smiled and kissed him again.

Out of the corner of Adam's eyes he could see Mrs. Potts smiling at the door, encyclopedia in hand. He didn't know if it was the sunlight, but he could have sworn the housekeeper had a few tears streaming down her cheeks. Eventually, she set the book down on one of the small tables outside, and left the family to themselves, her smile growing even wider as she went.


	7. Seven: Bright

**Author's note:** Hello lovely readers! This chapter takes place during the prologue of the movie, and is actually an excerpt from another BatB fic I'm (slowly) working on. I also added a little more angst to it, inspired by the BatB manga from Adam's perspective. Thanks for reading!

Enjoy!

* * *

In the west wing, it was quiet. The rest of the castle was buzzing with energy and light in the minutes before the start of the year's debutante ball, but the west wing remained a solace of calm – separate from the rest of the world. On the castle's front grounds, gilded carriages pulled up and noble women dressed in white silk with jewels covering their necks and hair stepped out with their escorts. The men were dressed in an equally ostentatious way, but none more so than the prince sitting in front of a large gilded mirror. And he was not just a prince – he was _Charles Alexandre Adam, the Duke of Anjou._ A _prince du sang._

He was dressed in the finest French silk and velvet money could buy. The long black frock coat that shimmered forest green in the light, with its individual diamonds sewn in throughout, deep green and gold embroidery, and polished gold buttons had been tailored just for this ball, along with the equally extravagant waist coat and breeches. His fingers were covered in silver and emerald rings, and the white cravat around his neck tied into a neat knot. He'd spend almost half of his monthly allowance on the clothing alone, a fact which no doubt upset the King. Whenever he received letters from him complaining about his extravagant spending, he longed for the days of the previous king, Louis XIV who forced his courtiers to purchase only the finest French-made garments, if only to put them into his debt. Now, the current king would chastise him for his spending, threatening to decrease his allowance. But the prince never worried. The King was always too tangled up in foreign conflicts and mistresses to pay him any true attention.

Normally, the sounds of the horses trotting in the gravel path and the light laughter of the nobles would make its way up into the prince's rooms, but he'd ordered his balcony doors closed that night. It was very mild for May, and last thing the prince wanted was the evening breeze turning his rooms into a cold wasteland. But, it would give him an excuse to bring one of the young debutantes up to warm the bed. Or two. Not that he needed an actual excuse. His charisma and charm alone (and not to mention his wealth), were very attractive features to the courtiers.

The prince returned his attention to his reflection. His clothing alone would be enough to make the Sun King jealous, but at this ball, he wanted something more. His valet, a rather young and bored-looking man was applying a powered rouge to his lips, and then brushed sparkling powders in golds, blues, and navy around his eyes, making him resemble an exotic bird. The valet finished off by dusting his face in white and marking a black dot above his lips. The prince smirked at his reflection. There was no doubt he would be the centre of everyone's attention, which was how he liked it. Just as the Sun King had fancied himself the centre of Versailles, _he_ was the centre of this castle, with all the courtiers bowing and scraping to gain _his_ favour. The strict protocol of Versailles was one of the reasons he hated travelling there, though he knew when to admit the parties and gambling were quite extraordinary. Even so, the courtiers hardly paid him any heed, and those that did tried to force either themselves or their daughters into a marriage proposal. It was _not_ his favourite subject. At Versailles, he faded into the background of gossiping nobles, but at this castle, he stood above the rest.

Finally, his valet gently put on a finely-brushed grey wig over his naturally-blond hair. The wig was one of the prince's favourites, with three tight ringlets above each ear and loose curls flowing down the back, kept together at the nape of his neck by a black silk bow, matching his coat.

"Master, it's time."

The majordomo's voice came from the shadows of the prince's dimly-lit room. He held out his gold pocket watch to indicate the time, but he didn't bother to look. The ball couldn't officially start until he was announced, and he didn't mind keeping the courtiers waiting. The longer they waited, the more desperate they became. But the prince considered his majordomo, at first wondering why he was in his chambers and not down in the ballroom or the front parlour attending to his guests, but soon realized he didn't care. With two fingers, the prince gestured to the lit candelabra on his vanity table.

" _Oui, maître,"_ the valet said, bringing the intricately-carved candelabra closer to the prince's face, bathing him in a golden glow. The prince lifted an equally intricate silver handheld mirror up to admire the makeup work upon his face. The mirror had belonged to his mother, a very long time ago. As his fingers ran over its gilded carvings, he found himself wondering what she would think of him now. Though, the prince was fooling himself if he thought his mother would admire what he'd become, and quickly dismissed the thoughts.

"Master-"

"You may leave, Cogsworth," the prince interrupted, not wanting to be rushed down into the ballroom. The majordomo didn't say anything, only bowed and left the room. The prince admired his reflection for a few minutes longer, much to the displeasure of his valet, whose arm was shaking under the weight of the candelabra. Finally, the prince placed the mirror back on the vanity and swiftly but gracefully left his room towards the main wing of the castle.

Each of the castle's crystal chandeliers were ablaze in bright candlelight, almost enough to drown out the light of the stars outside. Servants and courtiers alike bowed as passed through the halls, but the prince didn't give them so much as a nod in return. The chatter grew louder as he approached the grand ballroom, and the soft sounds of the string orchestra floated in the air. No one was dancing, of course. None of the courtiers were allowed to until the prince made his entrance.

He stopped at the door where the first footman announced him, and the ballroom turned so quiet that the slightest shuffle of a woman's skirts was a loud as thunder. The courtiers parted to either side of the brightly-lit room, many flashing enthusiastic smiles behind the layers of powder and makeup. The prince sauntered down the centre of the ballroom, chin and nose titled up above the courtiers until he reached the large gold throne at the other end. He sat in the massive chair, slouching a little with his feet up on a footstool. It wasn't the proper poster of a French royal, but it showed how relaxed he was in this environment, how much control he had over the room. With a snap of his fingers, Cadenza began an aria on the harpsicord, and the debutantes filled the ballroom floor again.

The prince smiled, trying to find _some_ enjoyment in the display in front of him, but only saw his mother in the middle of the ballroom, gazing back at him, asking what sort of man he'd become.

The vision only made him frustrated, though he hid it deep under a bright and mischievous smile. Swinging his legs from the footstool, the prince stood from his throne and merged into the sea of silk and jewels.

 _What sort of man had he become?_ He'd become the sort of man content with being surrounded by everything, and yet have nothing.


	8. Eight: Hands

**Author's note:** Hello readers! I don't want to give too much away for this chapter, but it takes place about three years after Adam and Belle's wedding. As always, thank you for the support!

Enjoy!

* * *

As the sunlight streamed through the large windows of the West Wing that morning, Belle blinked awake to the sound of Adam's soft voice reading.

Smiling, Belle leaned back against the satin pillows and just listened to her husband's voice. She wondered what she had done to earn this. Lately, Adam had been getting up rather early to tend to paperwork, leaving Belle alone for most of the morning until tea time or dinner.

On the rare occasion, she would catch him in the library, electing to complete his work there instead of his study.

"I must say, I prefer being surrounded by books," he'd said one afternoon as he was working his way through a mountain of taxation forms. "And besides, I know you'd come here eventually. You can never be kept away from this room for too long."

"I hope I'm not distracting you from your work," Belle replied, inching towards his bureau in a way that teased him slightly.

Adam held out his hand for her to take. "Why don't you come over here and _really_ distract me," he said mischievously. Belle raised her eyebrow and took his hand.

Even though it had been far from first time they'd held hands since the curse, Belle couldn't help but feel as if every time she touched him, it felt new, and exciting, and beautiful.

She squeezed his hand comfortingly, and leaned over the bureau to kiss him. The husband and wife lingered there for a moment, taking in each other's soft touch and tender lips. Eventually, Belle pulled away and gave Adam another sly smile.

"They'll be more where that came from once you finish your work," she said, making way to leave the library.

"Now you're really teasing me," he replied, laughing and shaking his head.

Belle smiled at the memory, but suddenly something caught her attention. She hadn't been giving it much thought before, but it was only now that Belle notice exactly _what_ her husband was reading.

"Is that… _Romeo and Juliet_?" She asked, stunned. She propped herself up on the mattress by her elbow to look directly and Adam, who was quickly hiding the book away.

"Certainly not," Adam replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Belle scoffed and shook her head. "'Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vexed, a sea of nourished with loving tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet; A choking gall, and a preserving sweet'," she recited and continued her husband's sentence. "That's _Romeo and Juliet_."

"Well, we've read all the other plays to the child, and I was hoping you wouldn't notice. I intentionally read it because I thought you were asleep," Adam said, moving his hand over Belle's stomach. "And you know what? I don't think they like it very much." He moved his face closer to her torso, his hand still comfortingly cradling it. "Isn't that right?"

"I think our child loves _Romeo and Juliet_ very much," Belle argued, rubbing her stomach.

"They will not, if I have anything to say about it," he said lightly, this time brushing his hand up and down her midsection. The action sent tingles flowing through her body.

"Shouldn't the child be able to decide for themselves?"

"Yes, I suppose so." Adam leaned over to Belle's stomach again, rubbing it, as if the motion would will the child to obey his command. "But I shall be very disappointed if you like this horrendous play."

"I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, love, but it won't work," Belle said, taking Adam's hand in hers and running her thumb over his knuckles. "Now, hand me the play. I shall continue reading it."

Adam rolled his eyes and let out a groan, slumping back against the pillows.

"Oh, hush," she laughed, reaching for the play herself. "You love it when I read. Even this."

"Only because you make the words sound so beautiful."

Belle started to read, and after a few verses looked back at her husband. "I do, don't I?"

* * *

 **Author's note:** Hello again! I just wanted to clarify that I personally think that Belle and Adam wouldn't have kids right after their marriage (and I also saw the headcanon on a Tumblr post). This is meant to be Belle's first pregnancy, and leads to Alexandre Louis and Marie Céleste from a previous chapter.

Thanks for reading!


	9. Nine: Smile

**Author's note:** Hello lovely readers! So sorry for the lateness of this chapter. It takes place a week after the birth Adam and Belle's children.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Adam, I think he smiled," Belle told her husband as she stood above her son's crib.

She didn't know if it was because she'd hardly gotten any sleep in the week since the twins had been born, or the exhilaration of becoming a mother was making her see things, but after finally rocking her son for the past hour and setting him in his crib, she could have sworn she'd seen his small lips curve upwards. No, she definitely saw her son smile. Belle laughed softly and ran her fingers over the infant's cheek.

Their daughter had been a bit easier to handle that day. She'd at least settled down to sleep without a fuss.

The sun was setting outside the West Wing, bathing the expansive room in a golden glow. Adam was out on the balcony, taking in the summer air and looking over the colourful gardens. At the sound of her words, he walked over towards the children's cribs.

"Did he, really?" He asked, approaching the cribs and leaning down next to them. He put a hand on Belle's shoulder, and she took it gratefully.

"He reminds me so much of you," Belle said.

"Perhaps the better parts of me."

"No, I mean it," she insisted, shifting her gaze to look into his eyes. "You know, I remember when I first saw _you_ smile, all those years ago." Belle smiled fondly at the memory.

"When I had just transformed back into my human self?" Adam inquired, a slight teasing tone in his voice. "It was quite spectacular, I'll give you that."

"No, silly," Belle laughed. "Before then."

"Before? I tried to smile once as that creature but the servants practically ran away in terror."

"It was a few days after the wolves had attacked us, and you were still in bed," Belle started, squeezing her husband's hand comfortingly. "I was making sure you didn't have a fever and your lips curved upwards into a smile when I touched your forehead."

"I was half-asleep!"

"But even so. It was then when I knew there was more to you than I had previously thought." Belle tilted her head. "That, of course, was before you insulted my favourite play."

"You know, I had such high hopes when I heard you recite _A Midsummer Night's Dream,_ and then you ruined it," Adam teased, his lips inching closer towards hers. Belle scoffed in offense.

"I'll have you know–"

"Shhhhhhh," Adam whispered, still with that teasing smile. "You'll wake the children."

Both Belle and Adam's gazes shifted back to their children, who were now sleeping peacefully in their cribs.

"I think you're forgetting all the other times you smiled, even before the transformation," Belle said after a long pause.

"Remind me," Adam said softly, his lips brushing against her ear. It sent shivers down her spine, and she turned towards her husband and kissed him gently on the cheek.

"When you showed me the library for the first time," she said, kissing him again, this time on his temple.

"When I read to you in the gardens."

Another kiss.

"When you moved from the head of the table and we drank our soup together."

Belle placed a kiss on the corner of his lips.

"And of course, during our first dance."

"I think I was too worried about tripping over my own tail to completely relax," Adam said, blushing a little.

"Nonsense," Belle remarked. "I remember you smiling throughout at least… half the dance."

"Because you were so beautiful." This time, it was Adam's turn to kiss her. Their lips lingered together for a while, she didn't know exactly long. The seconds and minutes blurred into one.

Eventually, Adam pulled at Belle's hand for her to stand.

"What are you doing?" Belle asked suspiciously.

With Adam's hand clutching hers, he put his arm around her waist. She laughed, realizing what he was doing, and put her free hand on his shoulder.

Together, they waltzed (as best they could, considering they weren't in the ballroom) around the West Wing, gazing into each other's eyes in the light of the fading sun.

It was then Belle realized she hadn't danced with her husband since she'd told him the news of her pregnancy. It seemed so long since they'd danced like this, and soon they were swaying back and forth, rather than waltzing in their tired states.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" Adam asked, breaking the long silence.

"Every day," Belle smiled. "But remind me again."

Adam chuckled at the use of his words against him, but gladly obliged. Slowly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers, taking in the taste, scent, and feeling of the moment. Everything else seemed to melt away, and that night the children slept as peacefully as their parents.


	10. Ten: Sand

**Author's note:** Hello readers! Again, I want to apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I had no idea what to write for this prompt until tonight, and it's very loosely based on the prompt. Though it's longer than I expected it to be, so there's that. (I also might have watched the Downton Abbey series finale again. Might have. I did okay.)

This chapter takes place during the movie, when Belle goes up to the West Wing and gives a little insight into her thoughts at the time. As always, thank you for your reviews/follows/favourites/support!

Enjoy!

* * *

As Mrs. Potts disappeared from Belle's view as she ascended the marble staircase, she looked back curiously at the hallway to her left, presumably leading to the aforementioned West Wing. After both Lumière and Mrs. Potts had quickly brushed off the subject that day, Belle's inquisitiveness only grew. _What could be hiding up there? What did the others not want to see? What were this fantastical castle's secrets?_

A million other thoughts raced through Belle's head as she peered once more over the bannister, and took the left path instead of the right back to her room.

As Belle made her way further into the centre of the castle, she was surprised to see that its interior was crumbling away, leaving a cavernous mass of darkness in its wake. She wondered what had caused the castle to fall into such a state, as she wondered about how household objects could perform an extravagant number before dinner, and how there could possibly be snowfall in June. All these questions were catching up to her after the whirlwind of events that day.

Though the servants had gone out of their way to make her comfortable, she still felt a sense of uneasiness as she moved up the marble steps. It felt as if she were intruding in places she had no right to. But of course, her curiosity at present was stronger than her respect for privacy. Lumière _had_ said that the castle was her home, and that she could go anywhere she liked. If she was to stay here (at least for the time being), she wanted to know that the lot of them her hiding from her.

Belle watched her step as she continued to climb the steps, afraid a piece of stone would give away at any moment. It seemed as if the stairs would never end until she spotted a set of grand ivory and gilded doors which she assumed led to the mysterious West Wing.

To her surprise, the doors weren't locked, and she entered the room as silently as she could.

However, it wasn't so much a room as it was a _hall,_ or the size of one at least. It was larger than her cottage, and any other room she'd seen in the castle, dimly lit with massive spiralling chandeliers that must have held at least one hundred candles each.

Belle's heart started to race as she made her way around the room, attempting to examine every inch of the place.

It wasn't in the tidiest state, to be sure. Fabric and furniture was strewn around the room, as if a cyclone had come through. One of the only indications to explain the contrary was the presence of an opulent four-poster bed, its frame and carvings immaculate and untouched. The head of the bed bore a gilded monogram, and Belle wondered what the initials stood for.

Taking small but sure steps, Belle made way her way further into the room. Another area that seemed to be untouched by the force that had practically torn the room apart was a wide table, displaying various objects and trinkets (though _they_ didn't seem to be sentient). They were incredible, objects she'd never seen before, and some looked as if you'd have to travel very far to acquire them.

In the middle stood a large hourglass, the bottom half filled with sand so brilliant it shined a rose gold, and around were assorted snuff boxes and the like.

This room, Belle thought, must belong to that creature, then.

A gilded frame above the table caught her attention, and she gazed up at the portrait it held. When Belle saw the figures above her, a part of her mind realized what had happened, though it seemed impossible and outlandish at best. Though she wouldn't doubt it, not now after what she'd seen that day.

There were three of them, in the portrait. A family. A father, standing tall and proud, though a bit further away from the rest. A mother, looking elegant and regal with her hand on a young boy's shoulder. _Her son._

The boy sat between them, proud like his father, but had a certain softness possessed by his mother. Even through the scratch marks down the father and son's faces, the young boy's eyes were intact. They seemed… familiar somehow, in a way Belle couldn't describe. She tilted her head, and realized those eyes were the same ones that had been staring back at her when she brought the candelabra to the creature's face.

Belle shook her head, and decided it was a good time to leave the room, until one last thing caught her eye.

A bright red rose, floating against the darkened navy sky, covered by a frosted glass jar. Impossibly, it was still blooming with no water, though petals were strewn around it, shriveled and dark.

Carefully, Belle leaned down and placed her fingertips on the glass jar, but a thundersome crash made her jump back a mile.

" _What are you doing here?!"_ The creature's voice seemed to shake the entire castle.

It felt like Belle's heart was about to burst from her chest, though she planted her feet to the stone floor. "I was just–"

"Do you realize what you could have done? _You could have damned us all!_ Go!" The creature raised his arm, but not to strike her. He only motioned for her to leave, and so she did. She ran faster than she'd ever done before, eager to be rid of whatever had happened to the castle.

She realized now it had been terribly foolish to entire the West Wing, but even so, she didn't seem to regret it.

* * *

 **Author's note:** If you're not completely satisfied, I was almost about to just post this:

Adam: I don't like sand. It's coarse and rough... and it gets everywhere.

Belle: stfu.

You're welcome.


	11. Eleven: Rejection

**Author's note:** Hello readers! Sorry for the late chapter, hopefully I'll be able to catch up soon. Thanks for your follows/favourites!

Enjoy!

* * *

Once again, Adam had failed to finish the ever increasing pile of paper work on his bureau before the time came to change for dinner. And not for the first time in recent days, either.

The whole week, he'd found his thoughts wandering to his wife (as they so often did), but not in their usual ways. He wasn't becoming distracted by all the ways in which Belle kissed him, or how beautifully she danced, or how she would spend endless hours in the library, simply reading.

No, that week, Belle had been acting strange… different. She hadn't been her normal talkative self. When they were together she barely continued a conversation, and at night she would keep him at an arm's length. For a week (though it felt much longer), he hadn't been able to wrap his wife in his arms comfortingly, or kiss her up and down her neck, and he ached to know why.

Of course, when Adam asked her what the matter was, she'd rejected the idea that anything was the matter, and got lost in her own thoughts once more. Adam's only source of relief concerning the situation was that Belle was not ill. If she was ill, it would be apparent by now and she would not keep it from him.

Sighing, he checked his pocket watch and left the unfinished work on his bureau for another day. He walked at slower pace back to the West Wing, determined to figure out what was keeping Belle so distracted, and half hoping he would run into her before changing for dinner and asking her himself. But as he traveled through the brightly-lit halls of the castle, he found no trace of his wife.

When he entered the West Wing, Chappeau was already there with his dinner attire laid out.

"Have you seen Belle today?" Adam asked as the valet dressed him. Chappeau shook his head as he moved around to Adam's front to tie his white cravat into a bow.

"But I think I heard Mrs. Potts say she was in the library, earlier today, sir" the valet said.

"That's not surprising," Adam replied. "She practically lives there."

"Is something wrong, sir?" Chappeau inquired.

"No, no. Well, at least I hope not. Belle's just been distant this past week, and I don't think she'd ill."

"Have you asked her about it?"

"Yes, of course. Though, she hasn't given me a proper answer."

The two fell silent as Chappeau brushed down his embroidered frock coat, and Adam thought how he would be able to best get an answer out of his wife. For the first day or so, it hadn't bothered him greatly. But as the week wore on, Adam had started to get worried about Belle's sudden change in behaviour, and he wondered if _he_ was to blame. _Was he at fault? Had Belle become uninterested?_ He didn't want to believe it, but there was an inkling deep down that these thoughts might be true.

Perhaps, he knew now that Belle was too good to be true, too good to last, and he had to come back to reality once more.

The thoughts did nothing to help his confidence as he entered the dining room, but he was glad to see that Belle was already seated and waiting for him. He kissed her on cheek before taking his seat adjacent to hers.

"How was your day, darling?" He asked as Lumière poured them glasses of wine.

"Perfectly fine," was Belle's short response. Adam hoped she would elaborate, but she kept silent, avoiding eye contact.

Like the past seven diners, Adam had no such luck figuring out what was troubling his wife. That evening, he'd practically pleaded for her to tell him, but Belle never gave in. She ate dinner quickly and excused herself early, perhaps to avoid Adam's constant inquiries.

Belle was already in bed that evening when Adam returned to the West Wing, and as he joined her, he hoped she was still awake. She was facing away from him, towards the balcony, and Adam reached out to run his fingers through her soft hair, but decided against it.

"I wish you'd tell me what's the matter," Adam said softly, almost in a whisper and sighing heavily. "You have me rather worried. I'm starting to think you've lost interest in me."

At that, Belle shifted her position to face him. "Oh, darling, of course not," she said sincerely. 'I love you."

This, at least, put some of Adam's fears to rest. "Then whatever is the matter?"

"I…" she started, uncertain. "I don't know if I can tell you. At least for now."

"Whatever is bothering you, I want to help you," he pleaded. "Please let me."

"It's not so much that it's bothering me…"

"Then what is it?"

Belle took a deep breath and took Adam's hand in hers. The very touch comforted him in ways he couldn't even describe. He looked at her curiously as she moved their hands towards her abdomen, and eventually rested his hand on her stomach.

After a brief moment, Adam understood what she was trying to say.

"You're…" he was at a complete loss for words. He couldn't think properly. A thousand different emotions rushed through his chest.

Belle nodded. "Adam… I'm pregnant."

His jaw was wide open, but he couldn't form words. "You're pregnant," he managed to say, still not quite believing it.

"Yes," she said, tears forming in her eyes. Her smile was so wide and beautiful that Adam couldn't resist it as he leaned towards his wife to kiss her deeply. Thankfully, this time she didn't seem to mind it.

"You're going to be a father," she said, breathelessly.

"A father… we're going to have a child."

Belle laughed joyously again, inching closer towards him in the bed.

"I'd thought you'd become uninterested in me," Adam confessed, rather sheepishly. The palm of Belle's hand cupped his cheek and she stared deeply into his eyes.

"I could never think that," she said firmly. "I have just been overwrought with nervousness for the past two months."

" _Two months?_ You've known for two months?" He let out an exasperated sigh.

"I wanted to make sure."

"Have you told anyone else?"

"No one."

This time, it was Adam's turn to cry. Tears formed in his eyes and slid down his cheeks. _His wife was pregnant. She was going to have a child. They were going to be parents._

 _He was going to be a father._

A sudden nervousness washed over him as he remembered his own father, how cruel and unforgiving and absent he was. What if he was destined to be the same?

"Belle…" he started. "You know, my father wasn't–"

"I know," she replied, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. "And you are nothing like him."

"But what if–"

"Now's not the time to be nervous," she said. "That can come later. Right now, it's time to be joyous, and celebrate the news."

The tears couldn't seem to stop, and Adam smiled widely at his wife. _God, what had he done to deserve her?_ Belle smiled back, more beautiful than ever, and the two leaned in to share another deep and passionate kiss.


	12. Twelve: Dreams

**Author's note:** Hello lovely readers! This is another chapter that takes place during the movie, after the wolf attack during "Days in the Sun". As always, thanks for the follows/reviews/favourites!

Enjoy!

* * *

Adam hadn't dreamt of his mother in years. Not since the night he changed, in fact. But that night, after he'd (inexplicably) risked his life to save a girl he'd only just met – the daughter of a thief, no less – from a pack of wolves and almost lost his own life in the process, he saw her.

Adam had little memory of his mother ever being happy. There were only strands of moments he couldn't bear to hold on to. When he was a boy, she would read to him, and sing to him, and protect him from his father's anger, but he found he couldn't actually _remember_ her doing any of these things. He supposed the years under the torment of his father was to blame. And when his father passed he was already too far gone to remember any fond memories of his childhood. They had been buried by the layers of powder and clothes.

But there was one memory about his childhood that was as vivid as the memories of the wolves clawing at his fur and digging into his skin.

When Adam opened his eyes, he was in his mother's bedroom, standing beside the bed. No longer was he covered in fur, and gone were the fangs and claws. Here, he was a boy. Eleven years old. It was the closest he'd felt to being human again in a long time, though didn't trust himself to look down at his body or lift his hands to his face, out of fear he would transform back into the creature in moments. Instead, the young boy focused on the figure in front of him.

His mother lay in the bed, completely motionless. Her forehead was drenched in sweat, and her dark hair matted and tangled. Adam knew what had just happened. He knew because he remembered it so clearly, and here he was living it again.

She was dead. His mother had just passed, and Adam was by her bedside, singing the lullaby she had always sung to him. Even in the light of the golden candles that surrounded the bed, the room seemed cold and dark.

Adam hadn't actually seen his mother die, but he knew what was happening. He'd been asleep when it happened, only to be awoken by Cogsworth with the news. Not even his father had the decency to tell Adam himself. When he heard, he'd raced to the room where he stayed, perhaps for hours, as motionless as her.

Suddenly, a pair of strong but cold hands clamped down on his shoulders, and he was being led away from his mother. _Wait!_ He tried to shout, but no sound came from his lips. _Just another minute! Please! I must stay with her!_ Adam tried to wrench away from the iron grip at his shoulders, but he found himself trapped in his eleven-year old self, not unlike how he was trapped in the body of the creature. Even so, Adam pushed harder. _Mama! Please don't let him take me away!_ He felt so breathless and desperate, and tears started to stream down his cheeks, blurring his vision.

 _You can't leave me alone!_

 _Don't leave me!_

 _Come back!_

The room faded to darkness, and Adam woke with a sudden jolt. He was in the West Wing, alone and far away from the memories we'd witnessed in his dreams. But even so, he was not comforted by his surroundings.

The cuts and scratches on his skin still burned, so he tried his best not to move too much in the bed. Some were more irritated than others, and he realized he must have tossed and turned while he was dreaming.

He couldn't understand why he'd dreamt of the day his mother had died. Perhaps it was the work of the enchantress, or perhaps it was because he'd almost lost his life himself, if it hadn't been for the girl – _Belle._

As he lay in bed, trying and failing to go back to sleep, the thought of his mother. He thought of what she would say if she were here now, what she would say about the man he'd become without her. Normally, thoughts such as this would only add to his grief and misery, but that night was different.

He'd saved Belle's life. It was perhaps a foolish endeavour, risking his own life when he had no guarantee she would return the favour. _But she had._ She rescued him – a man so beyond change that he'd been transformed into this creature by an enchantress. Even after all he'd said and done, she saved him.

Before he got ahead of himself, Adam shook off the thought. He couldn't get his hopes up when nothing was likely to change. The girl saw nothing in him, apart from an ugly creature with no compassion in his heart. She would never love him. The curse wouldn't be broken. He was a fool to think that anything would change now.

Long ago, Adam had resigned to remain in this state forever, accepting nothing could be done to change it, but even as he repressed his hopes, there was a spark of faith in his heart. He still accepted the fact that he would remain a beast forever, but perhaps it would be okay to have even the slightest shred of hope in Belle after all.


	13. Thirteen: Dessert

**Author's note:** Hello lovely readers! This chapter takes place about three months after the transformation, and I'm quiet pleased with it if I do say so myself. It's inspired by a few things, of which I talk about in the notes after the chapter.

As always, thank you for your reviews and support.

Enjoy!

* * *

"I'm going to do it. Tonight. After dinner."

Adam was pacing the length of the kitchen, his hands clasped behind his back. Though he rarely found himself in the kitchens beside the dining room, that day he needed a place where he could consult his friends privately, and where Belle would surely not find them. It wasn't as if Belle never came to the kitchens, quite the opposite in fact – she delighted in seeing the servants at work, and offered to help on numerous occasions. But that day she'd been so excited that the library was being open for public use, and Adam was positive she would stay there until dusk.

"Really?" Cosgworth asked, checking his pocket watch for the hundredth time since Adam had stepped through the doors. "Lumière, that silverware was supposed to be polished an hour ago," he said to the footman. Lumière shrugged in response, clearly much more interested in what Adam had to say. The majordomo shifted his gaze to Adam.

"I always thought it was implied," he said.

Adam looked up at his majordomo, blinking. "What was?" He'd been in another world entirely, running through countless ways he might ask her.

"That you and Mademoiselle Belle would be married. It seemed quite clear in the days after the transformation."

"Yes, of course. But I want to ask her traditionally."

"But of course, Master!" Lumière exclaimed, putting down the silverware and approaching him. "And may I say that these things must be handled very carefully. Ask her as dessert is being served, and then, in the romantic candlelight, you will kneel before her and confess your undying love."

"And ask for her hand in marriage," Cogsworth added.

"Yes, and ask for her hand in marriage," Lumière repeated.

"But I'm afraid I'll muddle it all up. What if she says no?" Adam asked, his anxieties returning.

"She would never!" Lumière said. "Master, she loves you. And besides, it's been months. She's probably been waiting for you to ask her for half that time, at least."

"I quite concur, sir," Cogsworth added.

Adam nodded, his heart booming in his chest. _This was really happening. He was really about to propose._ His pace quickened, and he was sure he was going to wear a hole in the floor by the time he had to change for dinner. _How would he do it? What would he say?_ He supposed there was not much to it, not really. But still he could not help but think of a thousand ways it would go wrong.

Suddenly, the footman stopped him in his tracks. "Sir, you're working yourself up. You'll be great. I know you will."

"Thank you, my friend," Adam smiled. "I should be getting out of your way now."

"It better go well!" Lumière called after him, crossing his arms on his chest and leaning back on the large marble table. "We can't threaten you will cold tea, or dusty rooms, or living in darkness this time!"

"Nor would we want to," Cogsworth added, giving a stern glare to the footman. As he left, Adam couldn't help but laugh at Lumière's remark. He could scarcely believe it had been three months since those words had passed the footman's lips.

As dinner came and went that evening – the topic of the library exhausted beyond words – and dessert was being served, Adam's heart started to beat awfully fast and butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He thought perhaps he wouldn't be able to do it, that the words couldn't be summoned, but then he looked at the woman sitting adjacent to him who smiling so beautifully, and he took a large sip of champagne to summon his courage.

"Is something the matter?" Belle asked, giving him a curious look. "You've been staring at me all night."

"The thing is," he started, almost gasping for breath. "I have a rather important question to ask you."

"Oh?" Her eyebrow raised. "What is it?"

"Well, I feel like this is long overdue, but I wanted to get it just right." He took Belle's hand in his, rubbing his fingers against her knuckles. She smiled as he did, like it brought her all the joy in the world. Adam rose from his seat and kneeled in front of Belle, gazing into her shining eyes.

"For a long time, I thought no one would ever love me," he tried very hard to keep his voice from cracking. "And then I thought no one _should_ ever love me. But you… you reminded me – and taught me – the joy of loving and being loved. You quite literally saved my life."

Belle was starting to cry, and let out a short tear-filled laugh.

"And I know I could never do anything to truly repay you for all the joy you've brought me. But I hope that you love me as deeply and as wholly as I love you, and that I could make you happy in life. Because you've already made me the happiest man on this earth." _Enough rambling, and ask her._ Adam took a deep breath and swallowed. These were the words in which he couldn't falter.

"Mademoiselle Belle de Villeneuve," he said, his eyes wet with tears. "Will you do me the greatest honour of becoming my wife?"

Adam had barely gotten to the end of the sentence when Belle wrapped her arms around him. He stood, lifting her up with him and spinning around. Tears of joy and laughter filled the room, and when Adam placed Belle back on the floor again, he cupped her cheek with the palm of his hand.

"Is that a 'yes'?" He asked, full of adrenaline and joy.

"Yes," Belle said, practically letting out a sigh of relief. Their lips rushed to meet each other, and he pulled Belle – _his fiancée_ – closer towards him. Not since the transformation had they shared a kiss so passionate, and the only thought going through Adam's head was: _at last._

Lumière knew was interrupting when he opened the doors that joined the kitchen and the dining room and saw the master and Belle locked together in a kiss. He smiled widely, and backed away, closing the doors in front of him. Thank heavens they were too preoccupied to notice him.

The footman turned away from the door to face the staff that had gathered there, eagerly awaiting the news of the master's proposal.

"Well go on," Mrs. Potts insisted. "Don't keep us in suspense."

Lumière smiled again, wider than before, if that was possible.

"I think it went rather well."

* * *

 **Author's note:** As I said before, this chapter is inspired by a few things: Monsters of Men by Patrick Ness and Matthew's proposal to Mary in the Downton Abbey series two Christmas Special.

The Downton reference might be a bit obvious to those who've seen the show, but I couldn't help but base Adam's proposal on it slightly. It might be a bit of a stretch to say that saying "will you do me the greatest honour of becoming my wife" and the lift/spin are a direct reference to Downton, since they're fairly common things to do for a proposal, but I wanted to have some elements of that proposal in this one.

The Monsters of Men reference is a little less obvious. First, I highly, highly recommend this book series (The Chaos Walking series) to anyone who hasn't read it. They're absolutely brilliant books. Monsters of Men is the third and final book in the series (and without giving too much away), when two of the characters kiss, one of them thinks: _finally_. I love that moment so much in the book, and I wanted to include in this chapter.

Hope you enjoyed!


	14. Fourteen: Blanket

**Author's note:** Hello lovely readers! This chapter takes place when the children are about five years old. As always, thank you for your follows/favourites/reviews/support!

Enjoy!

* * *

"Alexandre, where has that picnic blanket gone off to?"

Belle's voice drifted into the nursery, where the children were building towers out of carved wooden blocks. They were only five years old, yet their brightness and intelligence already exceeded their parents' expectations.

Adam, of course, had taught the children to dance from the moment they were able to hold themselves up on their own, and Belle remembered many fond memories of Adam picking up Céleste and Alexandre, spinning them around the ballroom as all who gathered there laughed in joy.

At night, Belle and Adam could sit with them for hours, reading their favourite stories, and no matter how late they stayed awake or how tired they became, the children always insisted on more.

The governess stood as Belle entered the room, slightly exasperated after walking all the way from the kitchens with the large picnic basket put together by Mrs. Potts.

"It's right here, Mama!" the little boy exclaimed, holding up the navy-blue blanket in his arms.

Belle smiled widely. "Excellent, _ma chérie,"_ she said, kneeling down to the level of his eyes. "I knew I could trust you."

"Is it time to go, Mama?" Céleste asked, moving away from her structure towards Belle. With her free hand, she pulled her daughter into a hug.

"Yes, I think it is," she replied.

"Will Papa be joining us?" Céleste said.

Belle shook her head apologetically. "I'm afraid not. Papa has a lot of work to be doing." Both children frowned, disappointed. They were not like other children of their age, Belle knew. The children of the nobles would be cared for by a nurse and governess from dawn until dusk, and only seen by their parents for a few hours a day, perhaps even less. Belle couldn't understand how the nobles raised their children like this, being absent most of their childhood and then orchestrating advantageous marriages then they were old enough. Then again, she had always been different. Not for the first time was she realizing that she was still an outsider in her life now as she was before she'd met Adam, though that felt like a lifetime ago.

But Adam and her family made Belle forget all that. She truly belonged with them, and that was all she needed to be happy. Thankfully, her husband shared her ideas of raising their children, and tried to be with them as much as possible, despite his duties to the village and land.

"Come on, then," Belle smiled and stood, motioning for her children to take her hand. Alexandre and Céleste eagerly followed Belle out the back entrance of the castle into its magnificent gardens, which were in full bloom in the warmth of early summer. Countless types of flowers decorated the grounds for miles and miles, but the most prominent were the red roses, weaved in through the dark green hedges.

"Let's sit here!" Céleste exclaimed.

"An excellent choice," Belle said, setting down the picnic basket. They were next to a grand gilded fountain, but far enough away that they wouldn't be splashed by its waters. The children always loved to sit by the fountain on warm days, letting it cover them in the cool mist.

Alexandre set down the blanket with Belle and Céleste's help, and soon they were all sitting on it and eating a lunch of bread, cheese, and fruits. She'd asked for something simple from the cook, though she was pretty sure there was a spectacular pudding hidden inside the basket for desert. The cook could never resist the usual grandeur of the meals he prepared.

After a while, Belle sat and watched her children play. She was pretty sure they were pretending to be pirates, or adventurers; something from one of the stories she and Adam had told them. Belle laughed as the two happily chased each other around the fountain, wondering what parent could ever miss these moments in their children's lives.

"Have you saved any for me?" Adam's voice was approaching, making her turn towards the castle in surprise.

"Papa!" the children exclaimed in unison, abandoning their games and running towards their father. Adam scooped Céleste up in his arm, and hugged Alexandre with the other.

"Hello, my darlings," he said. "Have you been good for Mama?"

"Of course!" Belle said and put her arm out for Adam to take as he sat down on the blanket beside her. He set Céleste down, and the children returned to their games shortly after.

"How has your work progressing?" Belle asked, taking out some of the extra foot from the basket.

Adam sighed and laid back on the blanket, so he was staring up at the blue sky. "I'm afraid the heavy rains earlier this month have done significant damage to the farmers' crops. It won't be easy for them. But this sun is looking good, perhaps it can turn around."

"We should pay them a visit soon, see how they're getting on," Belle suggested. "There's a new family in one of the farms, right? We should give them a welcome gift, or invite them to dinner."

Adam didn't say anything, but shifted so that he lay on his side, his head propped up with his hand. He stared at her like he was a school boy in love with the first girl he'd seen.

"What is it?" Belle laughed.

"I couldn't resist being away from you, or the children," he shifted his gaze towards Alexandre and Céleste, who had still not tired of chasing each other.

Belle leaned forward to kiss him. "How are you ever going to complete your work?" She teased.

"My work will just have to be patient then," he replied with a brazen smile and returned her kiss.

"Papa, will you play with us?" Alexandre asked, making Adam smile with delight.

"I think I can" he said, getting up from the blanket to chase them around the fountain. More than once, Céleste got a handful of water from the fountain and splashed it on Adam's shirt and waistcoat.

Belle laughed along with them, knowing she wouldn't miss these moments for the world.


	15. Fifteen: Tears

**Author's note:** _What_ , you say? _Another chapter so soon?_ Yes! This is actually the first chapter I had written for the list of prompts, and I'm so excited to finally share it! It takes place about three years after Belle and Adam's marriage, because as I said in a previous chapter, I personally don't think they would have and think they were ready to have children immediately after their marriage. As always, you for your follows/favourites/reviews/support!

Enjoy!

* * *

"It shouldn't be taking this long…" Adam mumbled to himself has he paced the corridor outside chambers.

"You won't make the child arrive any faster if you continue to pace like that, sir," Cogsworth said, checking pocket watch for the umpteenth time that evening. Though, it wasn't evening anymore. The sun was starting to peak through the windows, its increasing brightness an agonizing reminder of much time had passed since Belle had gone into labour the night before.

Adam had been helping his wife down the stairs when she'd grabbed the rail with such ferocity she might have dug her nails straight through the wood finish.

"What is it, darling? What's happened?" He'd asked immediately. The response had become somewhat automatic during the later stages of her pregnancy. No matter how many times Belle said everything would be fine or not to worry, Adam could do nothing _but_ worry.

He kept thinking of his mother, who had died due to birth complications, or Adam's own terrible upbringing due to his father. _Would his fate be any different?_

But this time, Belle didn't say anything in response to Adam's worried questions. She only took slow deep breaths, and held onto both his and the railing until her knuckles turned white.

"Darling, please answer me!"

Finally, Belle managed to speak. "The child… I think the child's coming." Perspiration was beading down from her forehead.

Adam's eyes widened in shock. _This was really happening._ He almost couldn't speak. "Good Lord, alright," he managed. His mind was swirling with a million separate actions he had to take. To his relief, he caught the attention a passing maid. "Get Mrs. Potts, Cogsworth, Lumière, and Plumette!" He called, not wanting to leave his wife's side. He couldn't even imagine parting from her at a time such as which, which was why he was having a difficult waiting for the child, _his child_ to be born.

After carrying Belle with the help of the majordomo and footman to the West Wing, he'd stayed with her until he was practically falling asleep at her bedside. Cogsworth had recommended he try to get some rest, and he'd tried, and failed spectacularly.

"What if there are complications?" Adam's mind was a flurry of anxiety again. "I should go in."

"Sir, Mrs. Potts, Plumette, two midwives, and a physician are in there with her," Cogworth tried to calm him down. "The Duchess is in safe hands, I assure you."

"Besides, there are more likely to be complications if the room is crowded," Lumière added as he reached the top of the stairway with a silver tray of finger sandwiches. "We though you might be hungry. You hadn't eaten dinner, after all."

"No, thank you. But please, help yourselves." Adam couldn't even think of eating now, and his stomach clenched at the sight of the food. He continued to pace the hallway instead.

Cogsworth signed. "The first birth is always the hardest, Master," he said, picking up one of the sandwiches. "I remember your birth, sir. I was only a junior footman at the time, but the whole household stayed awake. It had been fifteen hours until you came into this world."

Adam couldn't imagine waiting another minute, but smiled at the majordomo.

"Your mother fought for you. She wouldn't even let the nurse feed you. She insisted on caring for you herself. And oh, how she sang to you." He paused, looking at him pensively. "I can see now that you're every bit your mother's son. And don't you forget it."

It was almost midday when the physician finally opened the chamber doors. Adam stood from the chair Lumière had fetched him after practically wearing out the soles of his shoes. He held his breath.

"The Duchess of Anjou has been safely delivered of twins, Your Highness," he said with a wide smile.

"Oh, thank heavens," Adam breathed as Cogsworth and Lumière moved in to shake his hand. "Congratulations, sir," the majordomo smiled brightly. "Absolutely wonderful," the footman added. Adam felt numb with happiness, but somehow managed to thank them.

The physician gestured for him to enter. "Cogsworth," Adam said, "write to Belle's father telling him the news."

"Right away, sir!"

As Adam entered the room, he quickened his pace at the sight of his wife on the four-poster bed holding a small figure wrapped in a white blanket. He gasped with delight, and kissed her on the forehead.

"I love you so much, my darling," he whispered into her skin.

"Don't you want to meet your children?" She asked with a smile.

 _Children._ He was the father of _children._ His wife had given birth to _twins._ The thoughts were swirling so fast it seemed as if he were in a dream.

Adam followed Belle's gaze to the infant in her arms. "This is your son," she said, rocking him gently. "My son…"

"And this," Belle said, gazing up at one of the midwives, "is your daughter."

Adam stood, taking the infant slowly from the midwife's arms, afraid he was going to harm her. The small child nestled into her father's arms comfortably, and Adam sat back down on the bed beside his wife. As he gazed into his new daughter's arms, he couldn't help but see Belle's eyes staring back at him.

Tears welled in his eyes as he rocked the child in his arms. "I'm your father," he said, slightly choking back tears on the words. It still didn't seem real. "And this is your mother," he looked at Belle, whose eyes were shiny as well.

"Can you believe it?" Belle asked, now properly crying along with her husband. Adam let out a laugh of relief. He would've wiped the tears from his face were it not for the fact that he didn't want to let go of the child in his arms.

"Ever since the day you entered my life I've been asking myself the same question," Adam said. "Sometimes I feel like it's all an illusion set up by the enchantress."

"I can tell you that it's not," Belle replied fiercely. "I'm here. Our children are here, and I love more than the stars love the sky."

Fresh tears seeped down his cheeks. "What have I done to deserve you?" he asked. The two leaned into each other, pressing their lips together in a passionate kiss. With the sunlight streaming in through the balcony and the soft murmurs of the children, everything felt as it should be.


	16. Sixteen: Memory

**Author's note:** Hello lovely readers! So sorry for the delay. I hope this chapter satisfies the wait. It takes place after the celebration dance. As always, thank you for the reviews/follows/favourites/support!

Enjoy!

* * *

"I think it went rather well, wouldn't you say, darling?"

Belle looked up from her book to gaze lovingly at Adam, who was entering the library to sit beside her. He was still dressed in his powder blue and silver embroidered suit from the celebration earlier that day, _sans_ frock coat, and his blond hair still perfectly combed, even after hours of dancing. She, on the other hand, had elected to change out of her white dress (even though she adored it) into something more comfortable. Belle loved the gowns that were so artistically put together for her, she couldn't deny it, but she felt most at home in her simple blue dress. Perhaps she would get used to the fancy gowns and constraining shoes, but not for a while yet.

As Adam sat beside her, he placed a kiss on her cheek.

"It certainly did," Belle replied, setting her book aside. She realized it was truly the first time they were alone that day. From dawn until dinner, they'd been surrounded by servants, friends, and family, and had not had a single moment to themselves. But even a celebration such as the one they'd just held couldn't make them break a growing tradition.

In the evening, after dinner but before they retired to their separate rooms, Adam and Belle would just sit together in the library until the sun set. Sometimes, they would read to each other (Belle had already tried – and failed – to sneak in a few verses of _Romeo and Juliet_ ), and other times they would enjoy each other's company; sitting by the fire, eating biscuits, and drinking tea.

"Mrs. Potts and the maids did a beautiful job with the flowers," she added.

"Poor old Cogsworth, though," Adam mused. "It seemed as if his wife was _very attached_ to him throughout all of the dances."

They shared a small laugh, and Belle remembered how tightly Madame Cogsworth had wrapped her husband in her arms – almost to the point of suffocation.

"Have you seen my father's works?" She asked, resting her head on his shoulder. "They are truly magnificent."

"I haven't, yet," he said. "But I have a feeling this room will be in need of more artwork soon enough." His soft smile made its way to his eyes as he gazed around the expansive room. The library was filled with priceless artwork, to be sure, but it had been this way for so long, and Adam needed a change. Besides, Maurice required a place to display his art, and what better place than the castle. He hoped, one day, he would be able to say that his artwork belonged at the castle simply because he was family, and this was a family home. It felt much better that way, as opposed to the lonely and dark place the castle had been before Belle had arrived.

"It's strange…" Adam trailed off, gazing down at his tailored clothing.

"What is?" Belle asked in a tired yet happy way.

"When I was getting dressed for the celebration, I couldn't help but remember that night."

Without saying it, Belle knew what night he was referring to. "How much do you remember?"

"At first I remembered everything. Even down to the coloured powders Chappeau had used on my face. But after a while, I only remembered the brilliant light of the enchantress rising before me. I remembered how scared I was, how I must have looked like a frightened little boy." He chuckled lightly, still looking down at his hands. Belle took them in hers and squeezed them gently.

"But most of all, I remembered the agony, how every fibre of my being was being ripped apart and sewn back together again in a horrid form. But getting ready today, it all… seemed to come back. Suddenly, it was night again, and I was wearing different clothes and a powdered wig and about to enter the ballroom to a hundred waiting debutants."

"That's all past now, my love," Belle whispered into his hair, hugging him tightly. "Over and done with."

"But the thing is," he said, this time gazing into her eyes. "When I saw you in that stunning white dress, and when we were dancing, it made me forget it had ever happened at all."


	17. Seventeen: Passion

**Author's note:** Hello lovely readers! Thank you all for being so patient with this fic! This chapter takes about a month and a half after the birth of the twins. As always, thank you for the reviews/follows/favourites/support!

Enjoy!

* * *

Adam knew he'd fallen asleep at his bureau again when Cogsworth shook him awake sometime in the late afternoon. He jolted up, suddenly alert. _How long had he been asleep?_ He gazed out the large window overlooking the gardens, and saw the sun low in the sky. He looked back at his work. He'd barely gotten started.

"Chappeau was wondering where you were, sir," Cogsworth said. "He's been waiting for you to come up to change for dinner."

Adam shook his head, trying to shake off the lingering tiredness. "Right, of course," he said as he attempted to reorganize the mess of papers on the bureau's surface. Even as he did, his eye lids felt like they had anvils attached to them.

"If you don't mind me asking, sir," Cogsworth started, obviously understanding his recent behaviour, "how much sleep did you get last night?"

Adam tried to remember, but all that came to mind were the children crying for what felt like hours. Belle had been a deep sleep, and he knew she had tended to them for the past few nights, so he didn't what to disturb her as he soothed the children back to sleep. In truth, he didn't even remember getting back into bed after the children finally went to sleep again.

He gazed at his majordomo, a blank look on his face. "I don't know," he finally said. "The children were crying up a storm last night, and Belle was asleep…" he trailed off. "A few hours?"

Cogsworth sighed and shook his head. "You should consider hiring a nanny for the children. It's only been a month and a half and both you and the duchess can hardly stay awake."

It wasn't the first time the subject had been brought up, not even close. When they'd announced the pregnancy to the court, over half the questions they'd been asked concerned the child's upbringing: what nanny or governess they would hire, who would be their tutors, what subjects they would be taught, and so on.

Belle, bless her, had proclaimed not too subtly that they had no intention of hiring a nanny nor a governess, and Adam agreed with her. He had too many memories of his own childhood in which he'd been neglected by his father until he was old enough to acquire his spending and gambling habits, spending his days with nannies and tutors who didn't bother consoling him in his grief over losing his mother. His best memories, of course, were when he was with his mother, and he intended to not repeat his father's mistakes.

He couldn't bear the thought of neglecting his children to be raised without him, and he knew Belle couldn't either. God only knows how the other noble families lived with themselves only seeing their children for one or two hours a day.

"I can't…" Adam started but trailed off, trying to find the right words. But Cogsworth knew what he was trying to say.

"I know you're concerned but your own upbringing, sir, and your father," he said softly. "But I can assure you that your children will not be neglected."

Despite himself, he laughed softly. "Belle is so passionate about the children's upbringing… it's almost impossible to separate them."

"Your own mother was very much the same." Cogsworth smiled to himself, and Adam knew he was remembering the time when his mother was alive. He would have been a footman, and she had always told Adam how important it was to be kind to the servants. It was a lesson he was ashamed to admit he'd forgotten after his mother had passed.

"I just feel like even the slightest mistake could have terrible ramifications for the children. That if I'm not with them… they could turn as cruel as I was." Adam's head hung low as he said the words, and his cheeks burned with flush. He'd told some this to Belle, of course (though not nearly enough as he should have), and she'd adamantly denied the possibility, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was doomed to repeat his father's mistakes.

"Sir, you and Belle are the kindest people God has put on this earth," Cogsworth said firmly. "There is no possibility of your children becoming anything less than you, even if you tried."

Adam smiled at the majordomo, feeling somewhat better.

"I've been keeping Chappeau waiting too long," Adam said after a long silence. Before he left the study, he put a hand on Cogsworth's shoulder. "Thank you, my friend."

"Not at all."

After changing for the night, Adam exited his dressing room to find Belle on their bed, rocking Céleste in her arms and singing a lullaby. Alexandre was already sleeping, he usually took less fussing than their daughter.

"How is she?" Adam asked as he climbed into the bed beside his wife.

"Almost asleep, so don't make too much noise," Belle replied, chuckling. They both stared lovingly at their daughter for a while, and Adam was still marveling at the fact that he had children he felt this much love for. If someone had told him during the curse he would have a loving wife and children, he wouldn't have believed them. He _still_ couldn't believe it. It almost felt like a dream.

"Do you think we should hire a nanny?" Adam asked, breaking the long silence. Belle looked at him like he'd turned green.

"I didn't think we needed a nanny or governess," she replied.

"It's just… Cogsworth woke me up in my study for what must have be the hundredth time since the birth, and you've been so tired you looked as if you would drop during dinner."

"But –"

"I know we said we didn't need a nanny, but nothing would really change. We could still spend all day with the children, but to have someone attend to them at night would help us get some sleep."

Belle looked at him curiously. "Did you talk with Cogsworth about your father?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because ever since before the children were born, you were terrified of repeating your father's mistakes, even though I said no such thing could happen. I always thought that you didn't want to hire nanny for this reason, that by doing this you would feel like you were somehow abandoning the children." Belle took a breath and looked down at Céleste, who was now fast asleep. "I never said anything about it, I know you're ashamed of who you were before the curse," she continued, "but I knew."

"Cogsworth said there was no way the children wouldn't be like us even if we tried," Adam said and laughed, despite himself.

"And he's right," Belle insisted. "Still," she turned back to the child in her arms. "I don't know how I feel about the children in a separate nursery."

"I think I'm willing to try if you are," he said. "God knows it would be nice to sleep a regular number of hours."

Belle didn't reply as she got up from the bed and set Céleste in her crib. She stared at the children for a long while before getting back into the bed beside him. She nestled her head on his shoulder. Adam kissed the top of her head, she put her hand over his chest, and Adam held it, gently rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. They sat together for a long while, as if they were waiting for the children to wake in a fuss.

It had become something of a habit, since the children were born. As soon as Adam and Belle settled into bed to go to sleep, one of them was bound to wake up, and because of that they'd been cautious about going to sleep.

"More sleep would be a lovely thing," Belle finally said, still gazing at the children's cribs. "There's one condition, though."

"And what would that be?" Adam asked curiously.

"I still want to nurse them myself."

Adam smiled. "I never expected anything less."


	18. Eighteen: Fruit

**Author's note:** Hello lovely readers! Thank you for being so patient! This chapter takes place when Belle is about eight months pregnant. Thank you for the reviews/follows/favourites/support.

Enjoy!

* * *

It must have been close to midnight when Adam felt Belle stir beside him in the bed.

She couldn't move very well, because of her ever-growing pregnant belly, so all her movements were restricted to light kicking and arm-waving. Most of the time, she was doing it in her sleep, and there was no point in waking her. The child was doing that enough.

On more than one occasion, Belle had woken him up exclaiming the baby was kicking, and would press his hand against her stomach.

The first time it happened, Adam almost didn't believe her. But she took his hand in hers and laid it flat against her belly and sure enough, he could feel their child kicking. His heart had nearly skipped a beat when he'd first felt it, and he started to cry tears of joy. It was one of the many moments he realized he would be a father, which both excited and terrified him at the same time.

That night, as Belle's arm was nudging him awake, he thought the child might be kicking again, but she only mumbled a few words, albeit a bit angrily.

"I'm hungry."

Adam blinked, wondering if he'd heard his wife correctly, or if she was talking in her sleep. "You're hungry?" He asked, almost a whisper.

There was a long silence, and he thought perhaps Belle was asleep, and relaxed on the bed.

"I'm hungry," his wife's voice mumbled again, causing him to let out a groan.

"We had dinner not four hours ago, and you practically the table itself, you couldn't get enough food." Adam couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm hungry," came Belle's response.

Adam rolled his eyes and resigned. "What do you want?"

"Fruit." This time, Belle craned her neck to face him as best she could. Her eyes were wide awake, as if she'd not gone to sleep at all.

"Fruit?"

"Yes! Fruit! Apples, pears, melon, berries, oranges! Fruit!" She was getting frustrated now, and Adam knew he needed keep her from getting stressed. But nevertheless, he chuckled at her odd cravings. Every few days, she always wanted something different. First beef, then chicken, then corn, and then the next week she couldn't stand the sight of them. The kitchen staff had been running in circles ever since she'd announced the pregnancy.

"Alright, darling. I'll see what there is in the kitchens," he sighed and leaned over to kiss Belle on the forehead, and then placed a kiss on her pregnant belly, as he so often did.

"Thank you, love," she replied in a lulled tone. He wouldn't be surprised if he returned to their room and she was already fast asleep.

Sitting up from the four-poster bed, Adam blinked a few times and then reached for his silk dressing gown that hung on a gilded hook beside the bed. After slipping in on, he walked over to the large vanity table for the candelabra that resided there, and lit it with the steel strikers beside it.

The halls of the castle were constantly lit with thousands of candles, but the kitchens would be dark at this time of night. He'd made the mistake of wandering through the kitchens at night without a candelabra and knocked over more objects that he cared to admit.

It was almost eerily quiet as Adam walked through the halls, the silence reminding him of the curse, of how dark and still the castle had been for years until Belle breathed new life into the place. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the early days of the curse. He hated to think of how alone, scared, and miserable he had been.

In a strange sense, the sight of a few scullery maids cleaning out the cinders and the ashes of the massive fire place in the dining room relieved him. They reminded him that those times were over, that he had found happiness and joy; that he would have a child soon.

When the maids saw him, their eyes widened and they started to stand, but Adam motioned for them to not be bothered. They smiled, bowing their heads, and returned to their work.

As quietly as he could, he opened one of the painted doors that led to the kitchens.

But they weren't completely dark, as he expected.

In the corner of the circular room, a singular candelabra was lit on the marble countertop. Below, a figure was rummaging through the cupboards.

Adam raised his candelabra to the figure, but hesitated. At first, he thought the figure was a poor fellow who'd somehow gotten into the castle and was looking for food.

The old woman from that night suddenly flashed before his eyes, approaching him with that cold stare and holding out a crimson rose. His heart pounded in his chest with such a ferocity it was as it if would burst.

The room was suddenly lit with the light of a hundred crystal chandeliers, white silk weaved its way through his fingers, courtiers tittered in the background. Somehow, he returned to the ballroom, but it wasn't how he remembered it. The haggard figure drew closer and Adam took careful steps back.

 _This couldn't be real. This wasn't real. It can't be._

It all seemed so real. The figure was glowing, raising the rose to her face. She was cursing him, it was happening again, and he couldn't let it. _What had he done? What had he done to deserve this a second time?_

Adam's mind raced, and he shut his eyes tight and shook his head in an attempt to be free of the memories. He didn't even realize he'd dropped the heavy candelabra onto the tiled floor until he heard a loud yelp from the far corner of the room.

He opened his eyes, and the room was dark. He was back in the kitchen, but still reeling from what he'd just witnessed. He gripped the back of a wooden chair to steady himself, afraid he knees would give out. Taking deep breaths, he reminded himself it had all been an illusion. It wasn't real.

When Adam opened his eyes again, it wasn't a poor soul standing in front of him looking for food, but Chip, in his night clothes and a cloth dressing gown holding up his own candelabra.

The young boy's eyes were wider than Adam had ever seen, and he wondered how much he witnessed.

The two just looked at each other for a long while, almost not daring to speak. Adam, in his shame, considered leaving right then and there. Belle would most likely be asleep by now, and they could have a bounty of fruit for breakfast the next morning. But his concern for the boy in front of him kept him in the kitchens, and not only that, he wanted to find out what exactly he was doing there at this hour.

"Are you alright?" Chip asked in a quiet, meek voice. No doubt he was terrified of what he had just witnessed. Even more shame grew inside Adam as he realized Chip must have been reminded of his time as a beast, how angry and uncontrollable he was.

"I didn't hear you come in but you were breathing rapidly and yelling and–"

"Was I yelling?" Adam asked in a gentle voice. Chip nodded, making him wonder if anyone else heard. "I'm sorry if I frightened you, I don't know what came over me," he continued, shaking his head again.

"It's alright," the young boy said, giving him a reassuring smile. "I wasn't _that_ scared."

Adam chuckled and reached out to ruffle the boy's hair. How grown up he was. He picked up the candelabra he'd dropped and used the flame of Chip's to light his.

"Now," Adam started, moving over to the large round table where most of the produce was kept. "What are you doing here at this time of night?" He gave the boy a stern look, but not too serious to indicate a punishment.

Chip looked over at the cupboard he'd been rummaging through, and then back at Adam. His shoulders raised into a shrugged, and his hands clasped behind his back. He didn't answer at first, instead looking Adam up and down.

"I could ask you the same thing," Chip said, raising a thin eyebrow.

Again, Adam chuckled. "I've come down to get some fruit for Belle, she's craving it," he explained, picking out an apple, a pear, and a few strawberries from the bowl of fruit at the centre of the table. He looked back at Chip. "Now go on, what have you come down here for?"

"I was hungry," Chip said, not meeting his eyes. "I was looking for Mama's pastries, but she's hidden them from me."

The corner of Adam's lips curved upwards into a smile. Mrs. Potts was always hiding her pastries, particularly from Lumière, who would sneak a few before dinner. But over the years, Adam found out just where she liked to hide things.

He walked over to a large cupboard where the pots and pans were stored. It was low to the ground, but so full that it was difficult to find anything besides soup pots, lids, and cooking pans.

Adam opened the wooden door with a squeak, and reached inside one of the large copper pots at the back of the cupboard. Sure enough, he felt a box. Removing the box from the cupboard, he set it down on the countertop and opened it. Inside, were pastries wrapped in cloth.

Chip's face lit up.

"I'll only let you have one," Adam said, handing the boy an apple turnover. "But perhaps I'll forget to tell Mrs. Potts that you've found them. At least for a few days." He winked at Chip, who gladly thanked him between bites.

"Now, off to bed with you," Adam told him after he finished the pastry.

"Thank you!" He exclaimed as he took his candelabra and rushed out the kitchen doors. Adam laughed again, and had one of the pastries himself before heading back to the West Wing.

Once he got back to their room, Belle was miraculously still awake.

"Oh, thank you!" Belle said as Adam handed her the apple. He set the rest of the fruit on her bedside table. "What took you so long?"

"Chip was looking for something to eat," he explained, climbing to into the large bed and wrapping an arm around her.

"Oh, really?" She asked with a chuckle.

"And…" he paused. "And I had a hallucination… vision… something, about _that_ night."

Even in the darkened room, he could see Belle's expression had turned serious. "The night of the curse?"

Adam nodded.

"It's all in the past, now," she said, tracing her fingers along his arm. "There's no need to be worried about it. Now," she handed him the pear he'd brought up, "let's enjoy this lovely fruit you braved the castle halls for, and tomorrow we can talk all about your _something._ "

He smiled, and took the pear gratefully.


	19. Nineteen: Cat

**Author's note:** Hello lovely readers! Thank you for being so patient. This chapter tales place approximately eleven years after the birth of the twins, so there's a bit of a time jump. As always, thank you for the reviews/follows/favourites/support!

Enjoy!

* * *

Adam was finally making progress on an endless stack of parchment concerning tax reform when his two eldest children burst into his study, carrying a ball of white and orange fur.

For a brief moment, he thought the creature might have been dead, and his children (bless them) brought it up to show him, but it shifted in his eleven-year-old son's hands, and was _purring._

 _Good Lord, his children had brought up a cat._

"May we keep him, Papa?" His daughter asked, her voice full of hope. "Please?"

Her eyes were so much like her mother's; warm brown with flecks of gold that glimmered in the sunlight. Despite himself, he smiled.

"Where on Earth did you find such a creature?" He asked, setting down his fountain pen. Despite getting through a mountain of work, he was glad for the distraction. Lately, he felt as if he saw very little of his family. Alexandre, Céleste, and Louis studied with their tutors most of the day, and Belle and their youngest, Caroline, were attached at the hip. He spent most of his days either in his study, staring at endless piles of parchment or observing the farmers.

"We found him in the kitchens," Alexandre supplied, scratching the back of the cat's ears.

"Mrs. Potts was shooing him out the door when we stopped her," Céleste added proudly.

Adam gave them a pointed stare. There were still so many questions to be asked. For all they knew, the cat could be wild and feral, though the way it purred softly in his son's hands seemed to convey the opposite. He didn't want to break his children's hearts, but with Madame de Garderobe and Maestro Cadenza's new dogs, the servants were already driving themselves mad trying to rear them. Of course, those weren't the only considerations.

"How do you know this cat doesn't already belong to someone?" He asked.

His children's faces dropped. Finally, Céleste spoke.

"What sort of owner would let their cat run away from them?"

Adam sighed.

"Perhaps the cat ran away on its own and its owner is very worried," he said, hating the gloomy looks he was receiving from the children.

"Can't we keep him until his owner comes looking for him?" Alexandre asked. "If would do him no good if we let him go to fend for himself, not while there's food and shelter here."

The corners of Adam's lips curved into a smile. His son made a compelling argument, he was practically fit for politics. He still had his doubts about the creature, but he knew what Belle would say if she were with him.

His smile grew wide, and it was enough indication to the children, whose faces lit up with joy.

"Alright," Adam started, moving from behind his bureau to its front and crouching to his children's eye levels. "But you must take care of him yourself."

"Of course, Papa!" Céleste exclaimed, practically jumping for joy. "We'll feed him, and play with him every day!"

Adam laughed. "But what about your studies? I'm sure Monsieur Tellier and Madame Besson will not appreciate a pet in their classrooms."

Alexandre and Céleste looked at each other for a moment. "Mama and Caroline can play with him!" The young boy said.

"Yes, they'd love it" The girl added. "Oh, and I have just the name for him."

"Really? Go on, then," Adam raised an eyebrow.

"It's from one of our favourite stories," she continued.

Adam smiled at his daughter. So much like her mother, indeed. Before she revealed what name she had chosen, his mind wandered to all the possibilities. Perhaps a character from one of the many plays they read, or maybe a character from the Knights of the Round Table; Arthur, or Lancelot, or Percival.

Céleste smiled and looked at her brother, and then back at Adam.

"He should be called Romeo!"


	20. Twenty: Lies

**Author's note:** Hello, lovely readers! I want to thank you all for being so patient. I've had this chapter written for a while, and I wanted to post it now for you guys, even though it's supposed to be for prompt twenty-three. So the "Sick" still should be next, followed by "Dance", then "Routine", and then "Game" as normal. This chapter takes place less than a year before the curse (yay, Trash Prince!), during a party at Versailles. Once again, thank you for the reviews/follows/favourites/support!

Enjoy!

* * *

Adam hated Versailles. He absolutely despised it.

One might think, upon observing him, his lifestyle, and his spending habits, that he would fit right in with the court intrigue and the splendor of life at the heart of France's royal life, but they would be wrong.

It was true that the young prince did enjoy the parties and gambling at the palace, but he detested everything else that came with living in the palace _itself._ The protocol, for one, was not for him. He couldn't stand being around courtiers bowing and scraping to acquire a closer position to the King's bedchamber.

In Adam's own castle, he was the master that controlled the courtiers. _They_ bowed and scraped to gain _his_ favour. Here, he could go practically unnoticed.

 _That_ was why he hated Versailles.

So, as his valet dressed him for the King's birthday celebrations, Adam made it his plan to at least have _some fun_ with the courtiers. They were so easily impressionable, it wouldn't take much to convince them of anything. Of course, everyone ( _almost_ everyone) in the palace lived for court intrigue, as it was the only thing that kept the lot of them from dying of boredom.

Adam, himself, preferred to spend all day in the libraries. Though he'd rather be in his own libraries, he could admit that those of Versailles were a wonder to get lost in. He could spend this whole life reading in there and no one would notice.

His valet finished dressing him, and he gazed at himself in the full-length gilded mirror. At least he would catch the attention of all the courtiers with his clothes.

Adam had decided on a silk gold frock coat with silver and deep blue embroidery, and small sapphire crystals sewn in throughout. His waistcoat and breeches were matching, and around his neck was a silk white cravat tied in a bow. The outfit, and not to mention the shoes, had cost him the earth, but then again, Adam never minded much.

All he wanted to do was make a lasting impression on the courtiers, so that they wouldn't forget him. He longed to be the centre of attention like he was at his own castle, and the clothes he'd purchased would make sure of it.

Finally, his valet placed a neatly combed powdered wig over his blond hair, and with one last glance in the mirror, he left his rooms to the palace's ballroom.

Many of the courtiers had asked him why he didn't move to Versailles like the rest of France's nobles, and as Adam thought about the party that awaited him, he realized it was more than the fact that he would practically be anonymous in the crowds. He'd lived in his own castle since the day he was born, it was a part of himself, and he couldn't let it go. Not that he'd tell anyone, of course. It would sound ridiculous, and France's nobles weren't nostalgic beings.

Still, he delayed his entrance a little longer by turning down one of the hallways and entering the Hall of Mirrors. It was a magnificent hall of architecture, with its gilded doors, crystal chandeliers, and artwork along the ceiling.

Luckily for Adam, it was quiet at this hours, though still brightly lit. All the other courtiers were in the ballroom or getting ready, and for a peaceful moment he had the hall to himself. The summer breeze from the open doors to his right cooled him as he walked across the hall, gazing at himself in the row of mirrors to his left.

The Hall of Mirrors might have been the only thing Adam was truly envious of, and almost made the trip worth it.

He imagined his mother with him, telling him stories of her childhood, and promising he would be able to go home soon. It was almost as if he was boy again, gazing into the mirrors. He didn't see himself in an ostentatious outfit but the modest clothes of his younger self, happily in the company of the only person he truly loved.

Laughter erupted from the hall beyond, and a group of courtiers entered, gossiping amongst themselves. Once they noticed him, they were quick to stop their talking and looked away, though the women gazed at him up and down slyly.

One of them, a petite girl with dark chestnut hair and piercing grey eyes pulled out a lace fan and started to wave it slowly, flirtatiously, just above her nose. She smiled with her eyes, almost beckoning for him to come over.

Adam smirked, taking great strides over to the gossiping group. Immediately, their conversation intrigued him.

"You know the old Duke of Anjou finally died last week," one of them whispered, a man of medium build wearing a deep crimson and gold embroidered frock coat with an ostentatiously large white lace cravat.

Adam did his best not to betray his emotions as the courtiers talked of his father. He himself had only found out about his father's death a few days ago, and had been truthfully unaffected by the news. If anything, he was glad the bastard was dead. He thought he'd never be free of him, and now he held his title.

"Apparently, he'd been whoring around in Spain for some time. Probably had a heart attack," one of the other men commented, sneering.

"What is known of the new Duke of Anjou?" The woman with the fan asked, eyeing him. Her gaze caught Adam off guard for the briefest of seconds. Did she know who he was? Or was she just flirting with him?

"Like his father, I heard. Whoring and gambling like every other _prince du sang,_ " the first man said.

"I heard he's engaged to be married. A little German thing from Saxe-Coburg," one of the women commented, with a hint of jealousy.

Adam's eyebrows raised. Where had she heard this from? He'd never heard anything of a marriage engagement. However, it was immensely entertaining to listen to their rumours first hand all the same.

"He may be engaged," Adam finally weighed in, smirking. "But he doesn't love her."

A few of the courtiers tittered. "Well, that's not exactly surprising," one of the woman laughed.

Adam's smirk grew wider. "He doesn't love her, because he loves another." He was enjoying fabricating such a story, but not as much as he enjoyed watching the courtiers' dismissive expressions turn to complete interest.

" _La Dauphine_ ," the courtiers gasped and started to whisper amongst themselves in, adding fire to Adam's flame. "And she loves him back," he added.

The group of courtiers became silent again, gazing at Adam with wide eyes. "They're planning on eloping."

A chorus of gasps erupted. No doubt it would leave a stain on the Dauphine's reputation, but Adam wasn't one to care of such things. Besides, he was sure half the courtiers spread rumours that the child she was carrying wasn't in fact the Dauphin's, but the child of another lover.

Adam was about to leave the group to their own devices when he stopped short. "Oh, pardon me, did I say the Duke of Anjou was planning on eloping with the Dauphine? I meant the Duke of Brittany. A few nights ago, he had more wine than was good for him, and his lips became rather loose."

 _There._ At least that would not get Adam banished from Versailles. And it wasn't as if the lie was unbelievable. The Duke of Brittany had at least five lovers, and he flaunted them while his wife stayed in the country with their children. Not unlike his father.

Adam gave the woman with the lace fan one last wink before heading to the ballroom.

It felt good to lie, and he anticipated he had much still to come that evening.

The Duke of Valois, for instance, flaunted a mistress or two, he remembered thoughtfully, often while his wife stood at the other side of the room.

 _Yes,_ perhaps he could make an excellent night of it yet.


	21. Twenty-One: Sick

**Author's Note:** Hello lovely readers! Thank you so much for being patient with this story. As mentioned in the previous chapter, I changed the order of the prompts to post the previous one as I had already written it at that time. Furthermore, thank you for your continuing support, reviews, and kudos!

This chapter takes place about 5-ish years after the birth of Alexandre and Céleste. Enjoy!

* * *

"I'm terribly sorry I couldn't make it down for breakfast," Belle said groggily as Adam entered their room after his morning meal to change. "I'm afraid I'm not feeling well at all."

Adam sat down beside his wife on the bed, and took a one of her hands in his. Her skin was cold, but he mentally told himself not to become worried so easily. The air was chilling in the autumn months, and it had been particularly cold that night. He remembered because he and Belle had been in a tight embrace to keep warm, though the layers of blankets and furs did that well enough already.

"You shouldn't be so close," Belle said with a half-smile. "I could be contagious."

"That couldn't keep me away from my wife," he said, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

"Did you see the children this morning?"

Adam laughed. "Yes, they were in good spirits, though they missed you. I told them not to worry."

"They shouldn't," she insisted. "And nor should you."

"That won't make me fuss over you any less," Adam insisted, inching closer towards her on the bed. "Are you sure you don't want me to get Mrs. Potts to bring you some soup, or tea, or…"

Despite herself, Belle laughed at her husband's unrest. "It's fine, I just need rest."

Slightly defeated, Adam nodded and after trying to convince Belle to let him complete his work in their room, his wife shooed him out to get some sleep.

After that morning, Belle's condition seemed to improve, however much slower than Adam would have liked. His impatience threatened to get the better of him, and he had to force himself numerous times a day to not get up from his study and check of his wife or his children. Sometimes however, he couldn't resist the urge and would sit by the bedside, holding Belle's hand as she slept.

One day, however, Adam heart raced as he unmistakably saw a physician leave their room, and he rushed inside, terrified of what his wife would tell her.

"Was that a physician? Is everything alright? Why didn't you tell me you called for one?" His mind was filled with questions, and they all seemed to exit his mouth at the same time in a jumbled mess. He had no idea if he was making any sense.

"Everything is fine, love," Belle said brightly. Even so, Adam wasn't convinced. "In fact, everything is _more_ than fine."

Adam stared at his wife blankly for a moment, trying to understand what she was saying. Finally, Belle rolled her eyes and sighed.

"I'm _pregnant,_ you clot," she laughed, finally, reaching out and clutch her husband's hands. Again, Adam stared at her blankly, trying to take all this information in.

"You're pregnant," he said, breaking the silence.

"Yes!" She cried happily.

"You're pregnant."

Belle nodded.

"Somehow I don't know if this is better or worse."

Belle smacked him playfully on the shoulder. "We've had children before, and the physician said second births usually proceed much quicker."

His wife was right, he needed to calm himself. He already had two children, two beautiful children and now he couldn't wait to have another.

Finally, Adam embraced her ferociously. "I do love you so much."


End file.
